LIBRARY OF CONGRES§. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



/- 



The September Holocaust. 



The 
September Holocaust 

A RECORD OF 

THE GREAT FOREST FIRE 

OF 1894 



t^^^^^^^^^^-v^^^ ^ c:x 



BY 
ONE OF THE SURVIVORS 






^%^^^^. >^ ^ .^ , /^ 






Light is our sprrow for it ends to-morrow, „.--'<>. p. ,* Q" ! -^"^ 

Light is 0^ death that cannot hold us fast; J ^ ^ 
So brief a sorrow can be scarce a sorrow. 
Or death be death so quickly past, 

—Christina Rossetti, 



Minneapolis: 

Alfred Roper Printing Co., Printers, 

1894. 



K^ 



Copyright 1894, by Lucy N. A. Kelsey. 



/M^ 

^>^ 



■1 ^o^^ 



r 



KC'ini 



®a the brother, 

MORE THAN KIND, 

WHOSE ENCOURAGEMENT HAS GIVEN 

INSPIRATION 

TO THIS LITTLE VOLUME, 

IT IS INSCRIBED 

BY 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter I. — Incidents by the Way. 

II. — Characteristics of Settlers. 
III. — Enterprise and Push. 
IV.— Our Neighbors. 
v.— "Good Bye, Meb." 
VI. — Premonitions. 
VII . — The Fire is Coming. 
. VIII. — One Sunday's Experience. 
IX. — Through Many Dangers. 
X. — The Greater Holocaust. 
XL — Aftermath. 



PREFACE. 

The events recorded in this little book have the merit of 
painstaking exactness, and confirm the old adage that 
"truth is stranger than fiction." 

Without attempt at artistic embellishm.ent, the writer has 
displayed a rare genius in pleasantly picturing the peace- 
fulness of the settlement in the forest, the wild, rugged 
beauty of this new country, the hardships of the pioneer, 
and the contentment of those who for a time, must brave 
all, in order to make themselves new homes. 

Who can measure the hope that lightens labor, that fills 
the soul with expectant blessings? 

Then the recital of that awful catastrophe — so vivid, so 
graphic. Such a portrayal could only be written by one 
who had passed through the fiery furnace of flame. 

In a world scarred by graves, and hallowed by sacred 
memories, is it any wonder that we pause, amid the rush 
and whirl of business, to listen to the tread of hurrying 
feet, and read, in faces upturned, life's lesson spelled out 
for good or ill? 

Is it any wonder that v/e pause when disaster, awful and 



appalling, visits iis, to find instinctively, that humanity is 
bound together in bonds of unselfish helpfulness? 

So in these pages, grateful acknowledgement is made by 
one who speaks for all. 

When in the coming years, this burnt wilderness shall 
have been changed into beautiful farms and made to "blos- 
som as the rose," and you, dear reader, shall pass en-route 
between the Twin Cities and Duluth, think of that day when 
the "heavens were rolled together as a scroll, and the ele- 
ments melted with fervent heat." 

C. W. H. 



The September Holocaust, 



CHAPTER I. 

INCIDENTS BY THE WAY. 

Our train left the Union Depot at 1 130 p. m., one 
day in the latter part of July. 

It was one of the extreme days for which the 
hot, dry summer of 1894 will be long remembered. 

I had with me only the two youngest boys, as my 
husband and oldest boy had preceded me to our 
new location. 

My fourteen-3^ear-old daughter had been left for 
a few weeks at her old home, and her little sister in 
the city. 

We were traveling on the Eastern Minnesota di- 
vision of the Great Northern, and after passing Elk 
River the indications were that showers had been 
much more frequent than in the vicinity of the Twin 
Cities. 

On we sped, through a fertile country that was 
losing familiar characteristics, and soon we found 
ourselves on the border of the pine district. 

After leaving Princeton we rode into smoky at- 
mosphere caused by smoldering forest fires. 



8 The September Holocaust. 

Nowhere at that time did we see flames, but at 
intervals it was evident that the woods were burn- 
ing slowly. 

Once our train came to a sudden halt between 
stations. "What is the trouble?" was the inquiry. 
"A tree has fallen across the track." 

Putting my head out of the window I saw a relay 
of men lifting the tree, and as it was not very large 
they were able in a few moments to swing it one 
side and the train moved on. 

We were on the Limited. At the ticket office on 
Nicollet avenue I had been informed that I could go 
up to Hinckley and ride back eight miles, or stop 
over night at Milaca and go on to Brook Park, my 
destination, the next day. 

As neither prospect seemed alluring I resolved to 
trust to the good nature of the conductor, and rest- 
ed quietly in the conviction that I should not go on 
to Hinckley that day. 

After passing Mora I was ready to gather up my 
belongings at a moment's notice. 

The twelve miles remaining w^ere quickly passed 
over, and in less time than it takes to tell it I was 
standing with the little ones by the side of the track 
and our train had disappeared. 

At Hinckley, the next station of importance, the 
Great Northern forms a junction with the St. Paul 
& Duluth road. 

Hinckley was a town of about 1,200 inhabitants, 



OULUTHji 




RUSh^ UTV 



The Burned District or Map of Pine County. 



lo The September Holocaust. 

of which the principal industry was the Brennan 
Lumber Co.'s saw and planing mills. 

The Eastern Minnesota from that point runs in a 
northeasterly direction, through Sandstone, crossing 
Kettle River, and continues its course to Superior, 
thence to Duluth. 

The St. Paul & Duluth line, which is more direct, 
after passing the little town callejd Mission Creek, 
runs into Hinckley, thence north through Miller, 
then Kettle River and northeast to Duluth. Sand- 
stone was a town of four or five hundred people, 
while Mission Creek was a small settlement, consist- 
ing of the inevitable saw mill, common to all these 
towns in Pine county, and beside railway build- 
ings, only a few dwellings. Brook Park was at that 
time, a promising little settlement southwest of the 
prosperous town of Hinckley, having been settled 
mainly within a year's time. 

To my surprise, I seem.ed to have been left to 
one side of the main settlement, how far, I knew 
not. Before me stretched the interminable track. 

Across a side track was a pair of closed bars, and 
within, a wagon road wound away among the trees. 
Near by was a small building about six feet square. 

"I thought we were coming up north," com- 
plained little Earl. 

^'We are up north surely, and perhaps we will 
find some one, if we keep up courage." 

I was in doubt whether to go through the bars 



TJie September Holocaust, ii 

on an uncertainty, or walk up the railroad track to- 
wards, a house that seemed nearly a mile away. 

Deciding finally on the latter course, I gathered 
up my burdens and we started on. As we pro- 
ceeded, I found that we were nearer the main set- 
tlement than I at first supposed. 

Before me stretched a high trestle bridge, and 
just beyond, the house first described, which I after- 
ward found was occupied by Mr. Nelson and fam- 
ily. 

As we neared the trestle, at our left and ap- 
proached by passing over a log dam, was a steam 
saw mill. 

At our right, not far awa}^, was a large new 
frame building, the boarding house. 

In reaching this we passed close by some low log 
huts in which three or four families were dwelling 
temporarily, w^hile deciding on permanent location. 

Beyond, among the trees was "the store" and 
"post office" kept by Mr. Berg, whose family occu- 
pied rooms adjoining. 

The kindly hostess at the boarding house met me 
at the door. 

*'Will you take in some wayfarers?" said I, giving 
her my name. 

*'0h, yes," she said, cordially. "Your husband 
will soon be here." 

This gentleman soon appeared, and at the supper 
table I met three single men, who were known 



12 The Seftember Holocaust, 

familiarly as John, Frank and Charlie. The table 
was well supplied with proofs of Mrs. Carver's good 
cooking, and all did justice to her skill. 

After a good night's rest, we were ready to ex- 
plore the settlement. 

Our first trip was through the woods to the Doc- 
tor's. 

A single path had been cut through the trees, a 
path which wound in zig-gag fashion over and 
around obstructions, in the w^ay of stumps and large 
logs, which we mounted or went around. 

We came in a few moments to a clearing. At 
the right, and near by, was the foundation for a sub- 
stantial school house. 

"There is Mr. Ward, at work," said Meb, the 
Doctor's elder daughter, who was showing us the 
way, "and here is our garden. Does it not look 
fine?" 

Across the creek, to our left, it lay, in flourishing 
condition; corn, cabbages, beets, and potatoes, con- 
trasting favorably with one I had left fast drying up 
at my home near the city. 

Here we caught another glimpse of Mr. Nelson's 
house close to the railroad. 

"What beautiful evergreens!" I exclaimed, as we 
again entered the woods. 

"Yes, there are many about our home, and over 
the creek to the northwest, is our village park." 



The September HoJocmist. 13 

''There seems to be an endless variety of trees 
here," said I, as we went onward. 

"Papa has found sixteen different varieties just 
about our home." Most conspicuous among these 
were the graceful fir balsam, towering pine, and 
sturdy elm. 

"Now you have the first glimpse of the house," 
said Meb, and among the slender poplars, maples 
and evergreens it appeared, still unfinished, but 
looking homelike, with a hammock swung before 
the door, and screens at doors and windows. 

"Mother, here is auntie and the little boys," an- 
nounced Meb, and my sister and the "princess" gave 
us affectionate greeting. 

"You did not bring Maidie with you I see, auntie," 
said "the princess," who came in Maytime, and was 
now fifteen. 

"No, she remained behind to pack houshold goods 
and see that they are sent when we are ready for 
them. .Meantime I will remain at the boarding 
house and superintend building m.atters." 

The Doctor's people were only camping down 
for the summer, having left most of their furniture 
at their old home. 

Books, newspapers, easy chairs, and a few rugs 
and fans, helped all to pass the time comfortably 
and sociably. 

"Who will show you the way to your new home?" 
asked my sister, as after a pleasant visit we bade 



14 The September Holocaust. 

them "Good bye," and started back to the board- 
ing house. "I think I shall call on Allen for that 
service, as his father will probably be too busy," I 
rephed. 

On our return I met "Jakey," a young Jew. I 
saw him often afterward and found him to be an in- 
telligent and industrious young man. 

At ten o'clock the next morning, Allen appeared 
and we walked down a wagon road, which led east 
from the boarding house, passed the school house 
site, and turned into a path cleared through the 
brush, bordered at first by young maples, raspberry 
bushes and various kinds of undergrowth. 

Following this, occasionally stepping over fallen 
logs, we found the woods growing thicker, our path 
more narrow, the ground spongy, and balsam and 
pine trees growing denser, forming interlacing arch- 
es over our heads. In some places the trees were 
so near together it was hke twilight, although the sun 
was shining brightly. Here it was delightfully cool, 
while ferns, brakes, mosses and other growth pecu- 
liar to marshy places sprung up about us. 

Further on were open spaces bordered by beau- 
tiful and symmetrical evergreens at different stages 
of growth; then we reached a bed of low brakes, 
extending under the trees as far as we could see, 
the delicate sprays so frail and lovely that even little 
Lyle noticed them and said, "How pretty, mamma!" 
This we named "the evergreen path." 



The September Holocaust, 15 

We soon reached a road running at right angles 
to the path. "Out of the byway into the highway." 
Turning eastw^ard and stubbing along over roots 
and grubs for quite a distance, at last Earl, who was 
a little ahead, where the road made an abrupt turn, 
shouted, "Mamma, mamma, I see the house." 

In a momeni: more we emerged from the woods 
and found ourselves standing in a clearing in about 
the middle of which stood our future home. 

The house, which was constructed of solid blocks 
hewed from logs of pine, ash, tamarack and bass- 
wood, faced the south, and in the east end was a 
door, over which in the gable above was a double 
window. There was a door in the south side as 
well, and large windows in the west and in the 
north and south sides. 

The trees had all been cut down south of the 
house to a distance of several rods. To the east 
the trees were blackened and many of them dead. 
A brush fire had got be3"ond control a few weeks 
before and had burned many of them. 

To the north and west, the trees were only a few 
steps from the house. 

Though at first glance it seemed as if we were 
surrounded on all sides b}'" an impenetrable forest, I 
soon found a romantic logging road, winding 
through balsams, pines and tamaracks as well as other 
native trees. The trees arched here so prettily that 
we called it the "arched road." This road opened 



1 6 The Seftemhcr Holocatist. 

out into a beautiful meadow, through which flowed 
a creek, now nearly dry in places. There was a 
shorter road to the meadow through the blackened 
trees east, but this became the favorite path. 

My husband called it a fifteen-minute walk to the 
post office from our place, but with the little ones 
to help over rough places I think it usually took me 
twenty-five minutes. From time to time I met the 
settlers on my walks to and fro, or had better op- 
portunities for making their acquaintance when 
they dropped into the boarding house. 

Mrs. Baty came in about four o'clock one after- 
noon to spend an hour with Mrs. Carver. She was 
the wife of one of the proprietors of the mill, keep- 
ing house for the summer in a little frame building 
near Mr. Nelson's. She was expecting to return 
•to her pleasant home in Wisconsin in a few weeks, 
so did not greatly enjoy her unsettled sojourn in 
this place. I had already met Mr. Baty, who as 
well as his partner, Mr. Seymour, were very social 
and friendly. 

Mr. Baty was an old woodsman, ready for a hunt 
at any time, and always willing to answer my numer- 
ous questions in regard to matters in which I had 
become interested since coming into the woods. 

A good share of the milk for the settlement w^as 
brought by Nora, a sister of Mrs. Anderson. She 
was a bright little girl, modest and faithful, and her 
pleasant ways quite won our hearts. 



1 8 The September Holocaust. 

The nearest of the low log houses was occupied 
by Mr. France and famih^ The father and son 
Dave, who w^as the oldest of six boys, were musi- 
cians, and as dusk came on we were usually enter- 
tained by a duet on violin and dulcimer. 

Mr. and Mrs. Braman and their son Jay occupied 
the adjoining house, while the remainder were oc- 
cupied by Jewish families. 

During the first week of my stay, Mr. Carver 
brought in a large pail nearly full of raspberries. 
Wishing to put up some of the fruit, I started one 
morning with the little boys, on my quest. 

Nora was just returning from her rounds with the 
milk, so we walked on together. Crossing the 
track near the trestle bridge, we opened bars, went 
over the log dam, past the mill and stables and 
turned into a fairly well traveled wagon road. 

After some time we passed Mr. Thompson's 
house. "I should think Mr. Thompson would get 
lonely 'baching it' here," I remarked. 

"He is not alone," said Nora, "for Mr. Gonyea 
stays wath him. Mr. Gonyea's family are still at 
their home in Kettle River." "There are some 
raspberries over there" she continued, indicating a 
place a short distance from us. "I must go on." 

"How far away does your sister live?" 

"Not verv far from here." 

•J 

"Have you any near neighbors?" 

"Mrs. Molander and Mrs, Raymond are quite 



The Seftemher Holocaust. 19 

Saying "good b3'e," she soon disappeared among 
the trees. After a ratlier unsuccessful search, I re- 
turned, as the children were tired and it was grow- 
ing very warm. 

A week after my arrival, there was a fire west of 
us, three miles away, and Mr. Collier's house was in 
danger. 

"Nearly every man in town is down fighting 
fire," said Mr. Carver. "They are going to bring 
Mrs. Collier, her mother and the little ones here for 
fear they will be suffocated by the smoke. Mrs. 
Collier is sick, and they will have to bring her on a 
bed." 

In a short time they arrived, and we found them 
a pleasant addition to our family. 

Little two-year-old Vernon was a great favorite 
with all. He talked very little and his call for 
water "all yi," seemed very odd. 

At that time the smoke was often so thick as to 
show plainly in our rooms at night. In time, how- 
ever, the threatened danger was averted, and in 
about a week, Mr. Collier's family returned to their 
home. 

"I do not think we need to be greatly alarmed 
about fires," said Doctor one day. "They burn very 
slowly and we can, with care, control them." 

The work of clearing brush and stumps and fall- 
en trees was vigorously pushed by those who were 
not busy havino-. 



20 The September Holocaust, 



CHAPTER II. 

CHARACTERISTICS OF SETTLERS. 

"We have been here just two weeks to-day," I 
said to Mrs. Carver, as I stood by the window and 
watched the train switch back and forth. "I would 
not be surprised if our household goods had come." 

An hour or two later my boy brought word that 
our furniture was on the side track in a box car. 
"Run down and tell your father; I think he would 
like to know at once." In a short time Allen came 
back out of breath, saying, "I am to hunt up Charlie 
Olson, ask him to hitch up, and bring a load at once. 
I think he is down among the tamaracks." 

"Where are they?" 

"Back of Mr. Berg's place. 

*«I will go with you and help find him." 

South of the boarding house, a half a mile or so, 
we found Charlie, and he put up his scythe at once, 
and started to the stables. 

The little boys and I hurried to the house to be 
ready for the first load. 

Our goods w^ere soon brought, and after two 
days' time we began to feel a little settled. By 
Sunday we could rest in a comparatively orderly 
home. 

Monday morning my husband announced, "I must 



The September Holocaust, 21 

leave the work here now, and help on the school 
house. I have put them off too long already. We 
must get our building in shape for school by the 
middle of September at latest." 

For the next three weeks, he, with Mr. Seymour, 
Mr. Baty and his son Frank, Mr. Gonyea and occa- 
sionally others, worked steadily on the school 
house. 

By the first of September the work was nearly 
completed, and it was expected that school would 
soon be in session. 

Mr. Seymour, of the mill, superintended the work, 
and on my walks to and fro I often dropped in to 
see how the w^ork progressed. 

The building was two stories in height, the lower 
floor divided into schoolroom, hall and cloakroom, 
which when completed made a very pleasant and 
commodious addition to our little settlement. 

Meantime our own home, though not completed, 
was very comfortable for warm weather. Stairway 
and other conveniences must wait. 

Our well had been dug by Jakey sometime be- 
fore we moved in. He had made it ''good and 
large," and the red clay formed a fine solid curbing. 
The water came in at eight feet. He w^ent down 
about twelve feet, and we were supplied with clear, 
pleasant-tasting water, easily drawn by means of a 
pail to which a rope was attached. This well was 
southeast of the house, and a little be3^ond stood "our 



22 The September Holocaust, 

pine," about one hundred Teet high, towering above 
the surrounding trees. 

My husband had covered the well with a platform 
of pine, with closely fitting cover. 

Our potato field was in the southeast corner of 
the Jarm and it was a long walk from the house. As 
I did not like to have Allen go so far away from 
home alone, I usually went with him, till his sister 
came. The trip took full two hours, most of 
the w^ay through the meadow. The haying w^as 
over and there were many stacks to be passed on 
the way. 

A great many were busy at that time burning 
about their stacks, as the hay represented a great 
deal of work and was very valuable to our settlers. 

We were becoming interested in our neighbors 
and in noting the different ways they had of inter- 
esting and occupying themselves in this new and 
rather wild country. 

Mr. Ward was outspoken, yet kind hearted and 
helpful in any emergency. He and his wdfe and 
boy had made great progress in clearing about 
their home. 

We found Mr. Berg very kind and accommo- 
dating, just now very busy in plastering and repair- 
ing his house and store, that he might be in good 
shape for cold weather. His wdfe w^as a true help- 
meet, though frank in her objections to the hard- 
ships and inconveniences incident to the life of a 



The Seftemher Holocaust, 23 

pioneer. Those who sit in comfortable homes, sur- 
rounded by all the amenities that modern civiliza- 
tion can produce, can have no adequate conception 
of what it means to be deprived of these comforts. 
To one reared in cities or large towns, the hardships 
of necessity seem greater when contrasted with the 
conveniences enjoyed in past years. 

Among the number of those to whom these pri- 
vations seemed of less weight than to some others, 
Mrs. Frame may be included. Acknowledging 
herself to be unusually healthy and hardy, she 
proved this, by the way she endured life for the 
present in one room, as rough inside as out. Her 
ready cheerfulness made light of all inconveniences, 
and the days found her busily washing, mending 
and cooking for her family of six sturdy bo3'S. 

Mr. Thompson accepted all privations cheerfully, 
working with a will to build for himself a home. 
John, Frank and Charlie w^re of the same material, 
gifted with genuine grit, undaunted by obstacles, 
and undismayed by privations. 

Mr. Collier found in his wife a good pioneer and 
one who would bear a willing hand in the struggle 
to win home and its dear delights from the wilder- 
ness about them. 

Mrs. Raymond, true to her social nature, made 
her home attractive to all its inmates and to those 
who were only guests. The Doctor's large, genial 



24 The Septefuber Holoamst. 

nature won him friends among all classes, while his 
family formed a pleasant, hospitable center. 

Mrs. Nelson's motherly nature was evident in her 
own home, and the girls, though kept very busy, 
found time to add their part to the social life that 
was gradually developing, though at times, under 
unfavorable circumstances. 

There was yet no suitable or convenient place for 
gatherings. No Sunday service, not even Sunday 
school was held; but many looked forward to the 
completion of the school house as a fortunate day 
for this young settlement. There- were many no 
doubt who only felt themselves transient dwellers 
among us until the time when they could welcome 
their families and feel that home was here. 

One day, I with the little boys explored the mead- 
ow in the opposite direction from that we took in 
going to our potato field. I was delighted with the 
grand and beautiful scenery in that direction. Af- 
terward when describing my walk to the family, my 
husband remarked, "You would have reached the 
doctor's potato field if you had kept on a little 
farther." Thinking it would be much more inter- 
esting to find another way of reaching the doctor's, 
I with the children, set out one day, having this as 
a definite purpose. 

Striking into our highway west of the house, we 
went on past the entrance to ''the evergreen path," 



The Seftemher Holocaust. 25 

and a few minutes' farther walk brought us to the 
meadow. Crossing the creek, we walked up the 
meadow for a time through the closely cropped 
grass. Our path finally led into the woods near an 
Indian trail that later I w^as told was the road that 
led to Pine City. 

We soon emerged from the woods again, finding 
ourselves on the borders of the potato field where 
Carlton and Willie were busy at work. "This is a 
new way for us, boys," I said. "What is our best 
path to the house?" "Keep on between the rows 
and cross the creek on a board you will see over 
that way," indicating the direction. The creek was 
deeper here than at any other place we had seen, 
but we crossed safely and soon found ourselves un- 
der the trees. My sister was reclining in the ham- 
mock, and bidding her keep her comfortable posi- 
tion, I sat on the doorstep as we chatted. 

"I expect Maidie on the 4:20 triun to-morrow 
afternoon," I said to "the princess," who joined us. 
"Shall we go together and meet her?" "I shall be 
glad to," said "the princess." "We will meet at Mrs. 
Carver's then at a little after four." At the appoint- 
ed time we met and as the train came in were re- 
warded by seeing our expected passenger. After 
a short call at the Doctor's we escorted the little 
maid to her new home, where she soon found a 
great deal to interest her and occupy her time. 

Some weeks later, my sister sent over word one 



26 The Seftcmhcr Holocaust, 

day that her young people were going out for cran- 
berries and would like to have Allen and Maidie 
join them. 

"How far will you have to go before you reach 
the marsh?" w^e asked Carlton, who brought the 
message. 

*'Not much more than a mile, I believe," said he. 

"Is it not early in the season to pick them?" 

"They will not be very ripe, but the Indians have 
been in the habit of coming in the fall and taking 
them, so papa thinks we had better go early." 

"I suppose they ripen after being picked?" 

"Yes." 

"When are you going?" 

"Just after dinner." 

"Well, I wdll let the children join you." 

They went that day and the next, getting about 
eighteen quarts of the fruit, which we spread in the 
sun to ripen. After that w^e heard of different par- 
ties going out for cranberries, and concluded the 
Indians would be disappointed when they came 
later. 

I suggested to Meb one day that I might join 
them the next time they w^ent out. "I think you 
had better leave it all to us young folks," said she. 
"They grow so low that it is very tiresome to pick 
them." 

Cranberry sauce, pie and jelly were added to our 
table fare at this time. We were fortunate in get- 



The September Holocaust, 27 

ting a fine quality of flour, and in fact had no reason 
to complain of the supplies our friend Mr. Berg 
brought in for us. 



28 The September Holocaust. 



CHAPTER III. 

ENTERPRISE AND PUSH. 

The amount of work done in the past six months 
in this new settlement had been great indeed, 
though as the farms were so shut off from each 
other by the dense forest growth, it was impossible 
to see what had been accomplished as in places 
more compactly built. Messrs. Seymour and Baty 
had brought in machinery and put up their mill early 
in the spring. The mill was idle just now, as all 
the men were busy haying or protecting their hay, 
or putting up shelter for themselves and families. 
Occasionally those who were sportsmen found op- 
portunity for a few hours' hunt. All were too busy 
to haul logs. More teams were expected later, and 
cows, of which there was at present a great scarc- 
ity, were to be brought in also. The ground until 
late in the spring had been soaked with water, and 
the flats near the creek at that time were over- 
flowed. 

A more cheerful band of pioneers, however, could 
not be found. All were enterprising and industri- 
ous, yet their discomforts and hardships were very 
serious at times. 

The blue joint grass was very fine, standing when 
it attained its growth, forty to fifty inches high. A 



The Septembc?' Holocaust. 29 

large amount of hay had been cut and stacked. As 
all were unwilling to face the prospect of their hard 
labor going up in flames, strenuous and constant ef- 
forts were made to protect the stacks from fire. 

Many who had famiHes were now busy in pre- 
paring to make their houses comfortable for the 
winter. 

My husband had put in a large field of potatoes, 
expecting to harvest nearly two hundred bushels. 
The dry weather more or less affected the crop, and 
he finally dropped his expectations to half that num- 
ber. The potatoes were large and of fine flavor^ 
keeping us supplied with as good an article in that 
line as we could wish. 

The boarding house was bright and spotlessly 
kept, and seemed a haven to the weary plodders 
who sometimes returned only once a week to its 
hospitable fare, many of the single men keeping 
house in the comfortless fashion, which was their 
onty choice, between times. Good Mrs. Carver 
made each one feel that he was the special object 
of her interest and care. Though she complained 
of a scarcity of material-, her table was always load- 
ed with wholesome food, deliciously cooked and 
presented in an appetizing manner. Mr. Carver 
was her right hand man and had a pleasant word 
for every one. They were both happy to have little 
children about them and dispensed kind words and 
favors to them v/ithout stint. Their own little 



30 The September Holocaust. 

grandsons were very dear to both, and they were 
looking forward with g^reat pleasure to a visit from 
them a little later. 

Mr. Nelson's people w^ere so near that in the first 
weeks of my stay I often saw merry little Minnie 
and her brother Elmer, who was younger. One 
evening just after supper two children appeared at 
the door. We looked at them Vvdth a puzzled 
air. "Who are they?" The mystery was soon solved 
and we all had a hearty laugh. Minnie and Elmer 
liad exchanged clothes, hence the strangeness. El- 
mer made a rather bashful little girl, but Minnie 
seemed as much at home in her cap, with hair 
tucked under it, jacket and knee pants as if she 
were used to such a dress. 

Mr. Berg's people had come in January and hav- 
ing endured many hardships before the w^arm 
weather came on, were happy in the prospect of a 
clean, comfortable as well as warm house. Their 
repairs had occupied nearly the w^hole of August 
and were about completed. 

One day on my way home with the mail I stop- 
ped at Mrs. Carver's door a few moments. She 
was looking tired. "You work too hard I'm afraid," 
I said, thinking the beautifully white floors pleasant 
to see, but not the w^eary look in her face. *'Have 
you a large family at present?" 

''Not very large now," she replied; "but we re- 
ceived word to-day that a party from Rush City 



TJie September Holocaust. 31 

would be here to-morrow. I shall try and find place 
for them all." 

"How many are coming?" 

"About three or four couples, I think." 

Later, I heard that they remained over one night, 
returning in the afternoon of the next day. 

The outlook for the company, the mill and other 
interests was at that tim.e very good. The school 
house would soon be finished, the school in opera- 
tion, and a new store was being talked of by parties 
who thought of purchasing the boarding house and 
finishing it. Logs were to be furnished for the mill 
and a new impetus was expected, as settlers would 
no doubt be coming in in the fall. 

Calling in to see my sister one day she said, 
"Doctor is getting ready a collection for the State 
Fair." 

• "I have heard so," I said. "I suppose he will 
soon make arrangements to go to St. Paul." 

"Yes, and I am thinking of going with him, while 
our house is being plastered and finished. I have a 
plan I wish to submit to you. I have been thinking 
of asking you to keep the boys and their sister while 
we are away." 

"I will be glad to have them come." 

"We will consider it settled then, shall we?" 

"Yes; how soon will you go?" 

"Within two weeks." 

Maidie clapped her hands when she heard this, 



32 The September Holocaust. 

saying, "Now I will have 'the princess' for a whole 
week and perhaps more." 

"You will be coming back about the time I ex- 
pect little Flo," I said to my sister. "Will you look 
after her?" 

"Yes, willingly," was her reply; so I was well 
pleased and greatly relieved. 

We were enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon, 
when Doctor came in and joined us. Suddenly John 
appeared at the door with the news that there was 
a fire down by "Big Joe's." "Would the doctor come 
and help?" "Big Joe," as he was called to distin- 
guish him from "Little Joe," had been hard at work 
on his place and now the fire threatened to come in 
and wipe out everything. I had been urging the 
doctor to stay and take tea with us, but now he 
must hurry home, don his working suit and go to 
"Big Joe's" relief. John waited till he returned and 
they hurried away through the woods toward the 
southeast. By night the fire was subdued and all 
was safe. 

I found doctor one day busily at work, with a 
bottle of shellac in one hand and a small brush in 
the other. 

"That chair is quite pretty as well as solid," said 
I, pausing to watch his motions. 

"I think so; see the grain in this," displaying a 
section of a large log he had just put some finishing 
touches to. "This is the top of my center table." 



The Sej)te7nher HoJocaud. 33 

"How many pieces will you have in your parlor 
set?" 

"Five or six." 

"It will be quite unique, but it must be a great 
deal of work." 

"Yes, this is very solid wood to work in." 

"What else will you display at the fair?" 

"Specimens of our large vegetables and native 
woods." 

"You should try and have a collection of leaves." 

"They would look very pretty, that's a fact, and 
give a good idea of the many varieties of native 
trees here." 

"I will try and mount some for you, giving the 
botanical as well as common name." 

"Good, I shall like that. You must get the boys 
to help you." 

"I shall need help. Some of the leaves are far 
beyond my reach. My boy is a great climber." 

"Yes, Allen is quite an athlete for a young boy." 

"He already has a trapeze under the trees near 
the house. Have you had to fight fires lately?" 
I inquired. 

"No; I have had a good chance to rest." 

"You do not think the mill is in any danger from 
the south, do you? It seems well cleaned out a 
long distance beyond." 

"Yes, I think it is pretty safe." 

"There is a good deal that is combustible about 



34 T^J^(^ September HoJoaucst. 

there. I believe it would be a good plan to burn up 
everything that cannot be utilized, after our show- 
ers." 

*'That will lessen the danger, surely, in case of a 
high wind." 

"Allen and his father had two great brush fires 
the other night after the rain. They looked grand, 
but I hated to think that they were burning after 
we retired. In the morning they were all out, 
though I expected to find a fire still." 

"We must watch such fires very carefully. Have 
you seen our stump puller at work?" 

"Yes; I was very much interested. There has 
been one at work down our way and it pulls up 
trees, roots and all." 

"It is a curious sight to see those immense roots 
sticking straight up in the air." 

"It must have been a very heavy wind that would 
cause such an upheaval." 

"Yes, indeed." 

"Do you account for it in any other way?" 

"Hardly; I suppose hurricanes pass through the 
woods occasionally and uproot some of those tall 
trees, strongly rooted as they seem." 

"Do 3^ou think it is a good plan, Doctor, for our 
boys to run over that trestle?" 

"No, two of them have fallen through. They 
had better keep away." 



The Scptc7}ibcr Holocaust, 35 

"I saw a boy fishing in the pond near the bridge 
one day. I suppose there are not man}" fish there." 

"No; they don't amount to much. There is a 
hole there eighteen to twenty feet deep." 

^'That's a bad place for a boy to wade in, I 
should think." 

"Yes, I have cautioned the bo^^s about it." 

"Strange there should be such a hole, and just 
across from Mr. Nelson's I crossed over the creek 
on sand and stones and hardly wet my shoes. What 
do they dump all that refuse from the mill down 
there for? Such a pile of chips and boards would 
burn a long time if fire got in there." 

'But we do not mean to let it get in. We can 
run no risks so near our settlement." 



36 The September Holocaust. 



CHAPTER IV. 

OUR NEIGHBORS. 

"We never see the sun rise here," said Allen one 
morning. "When we were on the prairie in Dako- 
ta we never missed it." 

"There could not be a greater contrast than these 
woods are to the open prairie," I remarked. 

It was more foggy than usual that morning, or 
fog and smoke blended to an unusual degree, for 
we could hardly see dim outlines of the trees near- 
est the house. Baby Lyle came to me saying, 
"Isn't God good, mamma? He has cut down all the 
trees in the night. Now we can see the trains." 

"Oh, Lyle," said his sister, "the trees are all 
there and when the sun shines we will see them 
again." There was a disappointed look on the little 
face as he ran off to play, for seeing the trains was 
a great pleasure to him. 

As the days went by a blue haze was always to 
be seen in the south and east, and occas'onally in the 
north, yet the smouldering fires seemed so far away 
that we felt no uneasiness. One evening during the 
second week of my stay the men were talking about 
a fire they said was about a mile away. I could get 
little idea of distances, for what others spoke of as 
a mile seemed to me two or more. I was talking 



The Sefianher Holocaust. 37 

with Aunty Braman at the time and said to her, 
"Let us walk down that way and see if we can see 
flames." 

"I am wilHng," she repHed; so we walked slowly 
down the road past Mr. Berg's, the road I had first 
discovered behind the bars the day of my arrival. 
We walked half a mile or more without seeming to 
be any nearer the fire or more affected by the smoke, 
and met doctor and several others returning with 
brooms and sacks. "We were going down to see 
the fire," we said. 

"You cannot get very near on this side on ac- 
count of the dense smoke. We have left it safe for 
the night." So we turned about and returned with 
them. 

The doctor and his helpers were hard at work 
for days, clearing out brush and making fire breaks 
south and west of the boarding house and other 
buildings on the edge of the settlement. The boys 
too were faithful workers, earning by hours of work, 
an occasional afternoon off, when they, with Allen, 
enjoyed as boys do, freedom to roam about at their 
own will. There was a great deal to interest them 
in the woods, and they were learning unconsciously 
from Nature's great open book. 

"Maidie" and "the princess" found opportunity to 
see each other every day, and Mabel Nelson was 
often with them. The girls preferred the meadow 
to "the evergreen path" usually, but about this time 



3^ The September Holocaust. 

Doctor and his boys made a short cut from their 
house to the path and this came to be the favored 
walk to and fro. The only serious impediment was 
a great log which had to be climbed over near the 
house. A helping hand here was greatly appreci- 
ated. 

About ten o'clock one morning Allen came in 
vv^ith a package in his hand. "Mamma," said he, 
"just guess what I have here." 

"A rabbit," said I at a venture. 

"No, it is some bear meat. Mr. Seymour shot a 
bear yesterday about five miles away. He told 
papa to send round to Mr. Nelson's and get a piece 
of it. So I went and here it is." 

"We must have some for dinner," said his sister. 

"I think there will be time to cook it if it is young 
and tender." So we put our portion of Mr. Bear 
over to stew and by noon it was nicely cooked. 

''Mr. Finney and his wife, 
They both sat down to sup, 
And they ate, and they ate 
Till they ate the bear meat up, 

sang my little cook as we gathered around the 
table. Our dinner talk that day as well as our 
dinner savored of bear. 

"If you were going through a dark wood and 
should see a lion on one side and a bear on the oth- 
er which would you rather, the lion would eat 3^ou, 
or the bearT'' 



The Scftemher Holocaust. 39 

The question was put to Allen, but his sister 
interposed with, "which would you rather, the lion 
would eat j)/6>?/ or the bearV 

"The bear, of course," said Allen, seeing the 
point quickly. 

"They say that the bear has a foot extremely like 
a man's hand," said their father. 

"There is a point for the evolutionists,"! remarked. 
"Perhaps it is Hhe missing link.' " 

"Our teacher last 3^ear thinks that evolution will 
soon be taught in the schools," said Maidie. "He 
says that we all descended from savages, and possi- 
bly from apes and monkeys." 

"I should call that descent^ and yet Drummond 
writes of the ascent of man." 

"There seems to be a number of theories on that 
subject," I continued. "Drummond thinks that evo- 
lution is God's plan of creation, while many of the 
evolutionists are materiaHsts. Others think that 
there is nothing in it at all, that God created man 
in his own image at once, and there were no inter- 
mediate steps." 

"It is a puzzling question and about as obscure as 
Emerson." 

"But Emerson is not always obscure. I found 
something of his the other day that even Allen 
could understand." 

"What was it, mamma?" 



40 The Seftemher Holocaust. 

"When duty whispers low 'thou must,' the youth 
repHes, 'I will.' " 

"I think I do understand it," said the boy. 

From this we returned to the subject from which 
we had strayed so far, and meanwhile piled up long 
slender bones on our plates. 

"What fun it must be to hunt," said Allen. "I 
wish I could have a gun." 

"You are too young, my boy. Mrs. Carver could 
tell you a sad story of her boy, who by means of a 
gun lost his hfe. He was older than you, I think." 

"Frank Baty shot four times at a deer the other 
day." 

"Where was he?" 

"Up in a tree." 

"Then he missed the deer after all, did he?" 

"Yes." 

"How disappointed he must have been!" 

"John Powers saw a deer and fawn just south of 
our house near the edge of the clearing," said his 
papa. "It was while we were working on the house, 
before I came one morning." 

"Oh, I wish I could see one now," said Allen, 
looking through the window toward the place indi- 
cated. 

"I saw some deer tracks in the sand of the creek 
yesterday." 

"Perhaps they come there to get water." 



The September Holocaust. 41 

"They don't get much there now. It has nearly 
all dried up." 

*'I heard a pack of coyotes 3^elping as they ran 
down the valley a night or two ago," said my hus- 
band. 

''What time of night?" I asked. 

"About four o'clock. Mrs. Baty heard them too." 

"I am very glad I did not hear them. I don't 
think it would be a pleasant sound to hear in the 
night." 

"I suppose you went off to sleep again, papa? I 
don't believe I would have slept a wink the rest of 
the night," said "Maid Marian." 

"I heard Mr. Baty say there was a kind of wild 
cat that prowled about in the woods." 

"Pshaw, he has been stuffing you." 

"Wasn't Mr. Ward stuffing you when he said 
there were wolves about?" I retorted. As my hus- 
band made no reply to this amiable rejoinder, I was 
able to enjoy my usual elation at having the last 
word. 

"As long as this bear has probably eaten no one 
we may enjoy eating him, I suppose," said I pres- 
ently, 

"What makes you think this bear has eaten no 
one?" said Earl, who had been eating his share with 
great enjoyment. 

"I think we would have heard of it if Bruin had 
been a cannibal, or at least Mr. Seymour would not 



42 The September Holocaust, 

have dared to send us any. Is not that sound rea- 
soning, my boy?" 

"Yes, I suppose so," 

"How do you like bears, L^^le?" said his sister. 

"Tell her that you like bear meat, but that you 
don't care for bears," said Allen. 

As we rose from the table Doctor's Willie ap- 
peared at the door. "Meb is going to give Eddie 
Raymond a music lesson this afternoon," he said, 
"and would like to have you go with her, auntie." 

"I will go if some one will keep house for me." 
Maidie consented to, as Allen had planned an excur- 
sion with Willie. 

About two o'clock T started for the doctor's and 
found Meb about ready. We were soon on the 
way. 

"I met Mrs. Raymond and Mrs. Racine just the 
day before Maidie came. We had a little chat at 
the boarding house, and I afterward saw them in 
the post office," said I. "I think Mrs. Racine was 
going away the next da3^" 

"She went, I think, but Mr. Racine is here 3^et." 

Crossing the railroad, we passed near the mill 
and walked on slowly, as the sun was warm, going 
over the same road that I had taken in my search 
for raspberries with Nora and the children for com- 
pany. As we strolled along, flies buzzed about our 
faces, so we lazily swung branches to and fro, stop- 
ped to gather ferns, bright autumn leaves or a be- 



The Seflemher Holocaust. 43 

lated berry, talking of mutual friends who were far 
away or of new people we were learning to admire 
and like. 

<'V/illie said you were going to give Eddie Ray- 
mond music lessons, Meb. I did not know you had 
become music teacher before." 

"It is something new. I have Nora as pupil be- 
side, but shall not give her a lesson to-day." 

"Eddie is a little fellow, isn't he?" 

"Yes, but a bright boy. His mother says he is 
always at the organ." 

"Here is Mr. Thompson's house. He has gone 
to Hinckley to-day. I saw him as he started off." 

"Did you hear of the trip 'the princess' made to 
Hinckley, with Mabel Nelson?" 

"I heard they went. Did she enjoy it?" 

"No, I don't think she did. Mabel had so many 
errands, they ran from store to store, and in fact 
were on the run about every moment, as they went 
on the eleven A. M. and came back about one P. M." 

"They went up on the accommodation, I sup- 
pose." 

"Yes, that is the only w^ay." 

"Have 3^ou been to Hinckley, Meb?" 

"No, not yet, but I suppose mamma and I will go 
there and do some shopping before cold weather 
sets in." 

"It is about as far as we were from the city, but 



44 T^J^^ September Holocaust, 

it will not be much like going into Minneapolis to 
shop, I imagine." 

*'No, not much; but they say Hinckley is a real 
enterprising town." 

*'I wish we could go there to church some Sun- 
da}^ Doesn't it seem strange to spend Sunday as 
we do now?" 

"It does seem an unusual way for us, but when 
the school house is completed we will at least have 
Sunday school. That will make it seem more like 
Sunday at the old home, to us all." 

*-Yes, it will to some of 3^ou, but as Lyle and 
Earl have whooping cough, I shall not like to take 
them this time of year, when other children will be 
exposed. I shall be glad to have the older children 
go, and their father will enjoy it." 

"Here is Mrs. Anderson's house on the right," 
said Meb. "We have not a great deal farther to 
go." "Is Mrs. Raymond's the next house?" "No, 
Mrs. Molander lives in the next." "Is her house of 
logs?" "Xo, it is frame; they, as well as Mr. An- 
derson's people, are getting read}^ to lath and plas- 
ter, soon. Mrs. Molander's house is quite roomy." 
"She is CharHe Olson's sister," I said. "Another 
sister came lately and is visiting her. He was work- 
ing for us the day she came, and asked leave to go 
to the train . We heard it stop, and came to the 
conclusion she had come." 



Tiie Sc-ptemher Holocaust, 45 

"These houses will look very different inside 
when they are partitioned off, lathed and plastered," 
said Meb. 

"Oh, yes, but they will seem cramped at first. 
After living in a large, open room, one does not get 
used at once to contracted walls. That expression 
reminds me of Winifred's contracting chamber in 
one of Mrs. Charles' works. Mrs. Charles is the 
author of 'The Schonberg Cotta Family,' a book 
you would enjoy, Meb. Winifred's brother, who 
was much older, told her a sort of allegory, in 
which she herself was the heroine. One day she 
found herself in a chamber, the walls of which 
seemed to contract at times, and at others to ex- 
pand. When she was thinking of self alone, they 
closed in about her, but when her thoughts and in- 
terests went out to the wide world about her, the 
wonderful things it contained, and to the people 
who needed her help and s^^mpathy, and love, she 
found her walls gradually expanding. Wasn't that 
a pretty- conceit? I think we all get into contract- 
ing cham.bers occasionally, and we are apt to stay 
there too long." 

"Yes," said Meb, "it is true." 

"Here we are, and there is Mrs. Raymond at the 
door ready to welcome us." 

"Good afternoon," said she, taking us into her 
pleasant little sitting room. "Sit down and rest» 



46 The Seftemher Holocaust. 

Did the walk seem long to you?" addressing me. 
"Meb don't mind walking, I know." 

"It did not seem at all long or tiresome," I re- 
plied. '-Meb and I were so busy talking; but one 
usually finds a road longer the first time one goes 
over it." 

"Then you have never been this way before?" 

"I have never been so far as this on your road." 

*'Is Eddie ready for his lesson?" said Meb, after 
a few minutes talk. 

"I will call him in," said his mother. 

Then, as the little boy took his place at the organ, 
;she said, "Come with me while I find some clean 
aprons for these little ones." 

The two younger children were soon looking 
their best in clean suits and shining faces. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Raymond and I carried on a 
lively conversation, which was interrupted by the 
entrance of Mr. Racine, accompanied by another 
gentleman, whom he introduced, saying he was in 
our village for the purpose of organizing a Sabbath 
ischool. 

"I hear you are intending to buy the boarding 
house and put in another store," I said to Mr. 
Racine. 

"That is my business here, and my plans are 
about completed," he repHed. "I shall go back 
soon to make arrangements about moving." 



The Sefte^nher Holocaust, 47 

"I met your wife when she v/as here." 

"She went away the day after we met you at the 
boarding house," said Mrs. Raymond, then turning 
to the other gentleman, said, "When do you ex- 
pect to organize the school?" 

"We are talking of having a meeting for that 
purpose in the boarding house to-morrow evening. 
I hope we will see you ladies there," and to Mrs. 
Raymond, "that you will furnish some scholars for 
our school." 

"I shall try to be there," said she, "and intend to 
have my older children attend the school " was her 
reply. 

"Have you called on many of the families here?" 
I asked. 

"Not a great man}^," said he; "they are so scat- 
tered, but I have seen several and have sent word 
to others." 

"I think you will have a fair number out." 

"I hope so. Shall we see you?" 

"It is' doubtful, as we have a lonely walk and 
don't go away from home much after night sets in. 
I think my husband will be there unless something 
I do not know of prevents." Just then Meb came 
in, and after a little longer talk we rose to go. 

"Will you not stay and take tea with me?" asked 
Mrs. Raymond. 

"Not to-day. We thank you for the invitation, 
but as we are going to stop at Mrs. Anderson's and 



48 The September Holocaust. 

Mrs. Molander's a few moments we can stay here 
no longer. You have quite a clearing about your 
house," I said to Mrs. Raymond as we went out. 
"I see you have potatoes here." 

"Yes; we ploughed this up in the spring and 
planted potatoes. We do not want fires to creep up 
on us unawares." 

Our stay at the other houses was short, as it was 
nearing five o'clock. I said to Charlie Olson's sis- 
ters, "I have seen quite a good deal of your brother. 
He is quiet, but we think him a thoroughly reliable 
and pleasant young man." 

"Charlie is a good boy," said the}-. "We can 
always depend on him." 

"When the Rush City party was here," said Meb, 
as we started homeward, "I went with one of the 
Mrs. Markhams to call on Mrs. Anderson, who was 
an old neighbor of hers." 

"How did the ladies enjoy their stay here?" 

"They were charmed, and said they were going 
to come and camp out next summer if possible." 

"How did they come, on the train?" 

"No, they came in carriages by way of Pine 
City." 

"How many were there?" 

"Four couples. The gentlemen had a great deal 
of business to see to." 

"I supposed they would stay longer. They were 
only here over night, I think, were they not?" 



The Seftember Holocaust. 49 

"Yes, they started home the day after. They 
were at our house in the morning." 

"I knew Mrs. Carver was expecting them. She 
told me that Mr. Carver had a telegram that they 
were coming." 

*'It must have taxed her to entertain so many. 
Her sleeping accommodations were not what she 
wished." 

«'Yes, but she is a wonderful woman; such a 
good cook and nice housekeeper, and so kind and 
even in her manner." 

"I thought she had a real compliment one day 
when I was there. Frank and John had been out 
for a week or so, hard at work and roughing it. 
When they came back they seemed so pleased, and 
Frank said, 'There's no place like Mother Carver's 
home.' " 

"You met quite a number of the settlers while 
you were at the boarding house, didn't you, auntie?" 

"Yes, many more those first weeks than if I had 
gone immediate^ to housekeeping. Many that I 
met spoke to me, as I suppose they had heard who 
I was. I had to ask someone afterward who they 
were. I believe I did have a regular introduction 
to Mr. Seymour, Mr. Baty and Mr. Collier. They 
were all very cordial and pleasant to me. I think 
it must have been because we are 'Bound by the 
bonds of a common belief and a common misfor- 



50 The September Holoeaust. 

"That line from 'Evangeline' always makes me 
think of a cousin of mine from Maine, a young law- 
yer who went out to Idaho when the country was 
new. He quoted that in one of his letters, in 
speaking of those he met there." 

So Meb and I chatted as we journeyed on, and 
finally reached the parting of our ways, and w^ent 
on homeward. 

"Did you have a pleasant visit, mamma?" said 
Maidie, who had supper all ready. 

"I had a very pleasant visit, and I think papa was 
right when he said that Mrs. Raymond's was a 
hospitable home." 

"I am going some time with Meb. She likes to 
have company." 

"I am sure you will enjoy it, and shall be glad to 
have you go some day soon." 



The September Holocaust, 51 



CHAPTER V. 

"GOOD BYE, MEB." 

One morning we were at early breakfast w^hen 
some one passed the window. 

"Who can it be, so early?" 

In a moment more Meb appeared at the door, 
fresh and sparkling with her morning walk. 

Sitting down, she announced : "I have two budg- 
ets of news for you. One is, the box has come and 
is at our house ; the other, Aunt May has invited 
me to come at once and spend a month with her." 

^'Splendid!" we cried. "Are 3^ou going, and how 
soon?" 

"I am going to-morrow on the eleven, and mam- 
ma wants 3^ou to come right aw^ay and open the 
box." 

"That'll be just fine for you, Cousin Meb, but 
how will auntie and 'the princess' get on without 
you?" 

" 'The princess,' dear, is as pleased as if it was 
herself who was to have the treat. She is going to 
help me get off and take my place when I am 
gone." 

"She is a darling. Well, I think her turn will 
come." 

"Must 3'ou go back ?" 



52 The September Holocaust. 

"Yes, at once. Can you come with me?" 

"I think I will, and let Maidie take a trip later." 

It was rather wet under foot that morning, as. it 
had rained some in the night. We picked our way 
through the "evergreen path" and turned into the 
short cut, reaching the house soon. As we ap- 
proached, a pleasant picture appeared through the 
trees. A few stones had been piled up near the 
hammock, and a pleasant blaze kindled, while my 
sister reclined with her feet toward the fire, and 
"the princess" was flitting about, placing an easy 
chair for me near the "camp fire." - 

The girls opened the box, while I dried my shoes 
by the cheerful blaze. The box had been sent by 
a kind sister, to "save me a stitch or two." There 
were dresses, hats, jackets, cloaks, day wear and 
night wear, and magazines and picture papers for 
large and small. The garments were all nice, and 
there was something for each one. 

Just then some one came up the path asking for 
the doctor. I turned, and was introduced to Mr, 
Jay Braman. 

"Like ships meeting at sea and passing, never 
again to signal each other," was my thought after- 
ward when I recalled that brief meeting. 

"We are so nicely off now for winter clothing," 
I SI) id to my sister. "I have a large box packed full 
of flannel underwear and we have cloaks, dresses 
and coats for every one of the seven. In fact, I 



The September Holocaust. 53 

cannot think of an3'thing we shall need for cold 
weather except a new suit for Allen and stockings 
and mittens for the children. Their father has two 
good suits he has hardly worn, he has been doing 
such rough work this season. I wish every family 
of our size were as well fixed for winter as we are." 

"You are fortunate indeed." she replied. "It has 
been such hard times, I am afraid many families will 
be in need of warm clothing as well as daily bread 
this winter." 

Teams were scarce and the men's time valuable, 
so "the princess" and I loaded our arms and started 
through the woods, I sending back as we disap- 
peared, a kiss with "Good bye" to Meb, who stood 
near her mother, the nrehght kindling roses in her 
cheeks. Maidie made a trip back and returned 
about noon, saying, "Meb has gone, 'the princess' 
and I went to see her off." 

After dinner I said to my little boys, "Would you 
like to take a walk with mamma?" 

"Oh, yes." 

"Shall we go and see the ding dong?" asked Lyle 
anxiously. 

"Yes, we will wait till four o'clock if you want to 
see the train. Now run and play with your little 
carts." With reading and sewing the time quickly 
passed and a little before four we started toward 
the "city" as I called it. Going into the post office 



54 The September Holocaust. 

we found that we had yet a few minutes to wait be- 
fore the 4:20 train would appear. 

"With your permission, Mr. Berg, I will try your 
hammock while I am waiting." 

"Certainly," he said. 

The hammock was suspended under the trees at 
some distance from the house, as there were no 
trees very near. It was between the boarding house 
and Mr. Berg's store. As the children and I were 
seated there swinging to and fro Mrs. Berg came 
out to the trees, and rising, I talked with her for 
some time. 

"Are you getting settled?" she inquired kindly. 

"Yes, to some extent. I am ready to see my 
friends." 

"I shall try and come soon, though with my three 
little ones it is hard to get away from home." 

"We have been so busy getting our house in 
shape that my work has been doubled." 

"It must have been, but you are nearly through 
now, are you not?" 

"Yes, we are just about through." 

"How are you going to like it here?" she con- 
tinued. 

"It seems wild and lonely, but I suppose I shall 
like it better the longer I stay. It is my home now." 

"I wonder if the people who look out of the car 
windows do not pity us as they go by," she said, as 
the train came steaming up and passed us. 



The Sefieniber holocaust. 55 

"I don't know; perhaps they do not give us a 
thought." Seeing Mrs. Carver and a younger lady 
approaching I said, "I suppose that is young Mr^. 
Carver with her mother. I heard she arrived a few 
days ago." 

"Yes, she has the little boys wdth her." 

As they approached, the elder lady, seeing us un- 
der the trees, stopped and spoke to us, introducing 
her daughter. After a few minutes' talk they went 
on to the office, while I continued my conversation 
with Mrs. Berg, learning that she w^as a normal 
graduate, had been a teacher for years before her 
marriage, and even with her strong taste for. good 
reading could hardly reconcile herself to the lack of 
society she found in this new place. Soon after, 
Lyle and Earl having seen the "ding dong," v/e 
went back, and as we passed near the boarding 
house, again met young Mrs. Carver and stopped 
for a Httle chat. Her stay was to be brief, but she 
accepted my invitation to come and call with her 
mother, and bidding her good bye I went on toward 
home. 

I had promised the doctor to make a collection of 
leaves for him to exhibit at the state fair. Thinking 
of this promise I set to work to gather those that 
were within reach. 

"Ah, here are Maidie and 'the princess.' Now I 
will have some help." 



56 The September Holocaust. 

''What are you doing," asked the girls as they 
approached. 

"I am making a beginning," said I, "and would 
like some help." Then noticing their puzzled looks 
I continued. "I am going to try and make a collec- 
tion of different leaves for the doctor. See, I have 
already maple, basswood, poplar, spruce, fir, pine 
and cherry." 

"You had better come over by our house and 
you will find some you have not already collected, 
auntie," said "the princess." 

"I will go for a few moments, as I have not seen 
your mother this week." The girls were soon 
gathering leaves for me, while I talked with my sis- 
ter in the house. 

"Why do you call cousin ^the princess?' " said 
matter-of-fact Earl one day. 

"Because she is a daughter of the King," said I, 
looking down into his earnest eyes. 

"Is she; how do you know, mamma?" 

"I know because she is kind and unselfish and 
loves to obey the King," I replied. "Is not that a 
sure sign?" 

"Yes, mamma," said the boy, as he ran off to 
play. 

The nights were growing cooler, though at times 
it was still hot at mid-day. "We will soon ask you 
to lay the upper floor," said I to my husband; "the 



The September Holocaust. 57 

cracks in this single floor will let in a great deal 
of cold before long." 

"Yes, it must be done soon, but our work is 
nearly finished on the school house. Then I shall 
have plenty to do at home for a while. The doctor 
will want me to help on his house soon. When a 
a few of these important things are done, our house 
will be comfortable for cold weather." 



58 The September Holocaust, 



CHAPTER VI. 

PREMONITIONS. 

"This is the first day of September" said I, at 
the breakfast table. "We will be sure to have frost 
before very long. I am glad I have my chrysan- 
themums safely housed." 

"I think there wall be a great many blossoms on 
them, mamma," said Maidie. "What did you do 
with Flo's bush?'" 

"I put her's with mine. They look very thrifty, 
and I discovered some buds on them yesterday." 

"Come Allen," said his father, as we arose from the 
table, "we will go dovv^n to the dam below the potato 
field and get out some boards. They will be of 
great use to me when I am ready to build my barn." 

Our morning passed quickly, as Maidie and I 
were busy with our usual Saturday's work. 

"Dinner is ready," said the little cook "and it is 
after twelve. I wonder why papa and Allen do not 
come?" 

We had noticed all the morning that the smoke 
away southeast w^as quite dense, and the wind had 
been growing stronger. Several times as we 
worked, we had rem.arked on the danger of fire 
spreading unusually in such a w^ind. 



The September Holocaust. 59 

^'Perhaps they have gone to help fight fire. The 
smoke seems to be in that direction." 

"I am sure some one is in d inger, mamma, the 
wind is so strong and the smoke spreads over the 
sky more than I ever saw it before." 

" Y ou had better run down to the meadow through 
'the arched road' and see if they are coming," said I, 
as the minutes passed and still they did not appear. 
"I will put this bread in the baking tins while you 
are gone. We will keep up the fire and finish our 
Saturday baking as soon as w^e can. It is growing 
oppressively w^irm." 

Maidie rushed away, but soon came back, saying 
she could see no signs of them. 

*'We will eat our dinner then, as the little ones 
are hungry, and keep the dinner warm for the 
others. How did the smoke seem down there .^" 
said I, as w^e sat at the table, leisurely eating. 

*'It seems to be getting worse all the while, 
mamma. What if it should come this way?" 

"I win go down after I am through and see what 
I think of it. The wind does blow harder than it 
did before noon, I am sure. I am afraid there is 
trouble somewhere." 

<'Let me go with you," pleaded Maidie, as I put 
on my hat and started for the meadow. 

"The little boys will not like to be left alone," 
said I, with some hesitation. 



6o The Seftcmhc}' Holocaust. 

"You'll stay and take care of Lyle, won't you 
Earl?" she said coaxingly 

"Yes, I'll stay," said he. 

We had now begun to feel a vague restlessness, 
unusual to us both, and hurried through the wind- 
ing path which led over many obstacles, and finally 
dropped down several feet at the edge of the 
meadow, w^here the branches drooped so low that 
we had to stoop as we passed beneath. As w^e 
emerged into the open meadow we could see the 
smoke rolling toward the north, far to the southeast. 

"It is farther away than it seems, but it is a 
dreadful fire, I think. If it should come up as far 
as this, I think it will go a good deal to the east of 
us, and may take some of those grand elnis papa is 
so proud of. I hate to think of having any of those 
line trees burned. There are so many beautiful ones 
on the o'her side of the creek. If the fire does 
come through to-day we are helpless to save them." 

"I do wash papa would come," said Maidie, "I 
will climb this high stack and perhaps I will see him." 

In a few moments she slid down saying, "I can 
see no one coming." 

"We m.ust go back to the children now," said I, 
turning homeward. 

"How hot it is getting!" complained Maidie, tak- 
ing off her hat. 

"The sun is extremely hot and the wind is hke 



The Seftember Holocaust, 61 

the scorching south winds we used to have in Da- 
kota at times, regular simooms they seemed." 

We found the little ones contentedly playing 
about. The wind was blowing into the south and 
west windows, and though the fire in the cook stove 
had gone out, the room was uncomfortably warm. 

"See the bread, mamma," said Maidie. 

It had risen high and was beginning to run over, 
but feeling incapable of settling to anything just 
then, I kneaded it down, thinking that when my 
husband and Allen returned, I would start up the fire 
and put it in the oven. ''I feel anxious about papa 
and Allen," I said at length, "and I must see how 
the fire is, down that way." 

"Let us take the children and go down again," 
said their sister, after we had vainly striven to quiet 
down and continue the usual Saturday work. 

Putting on their hats we locked the doors and 
again hurried through the thicket, half carrying the 
children, and urging them along in our increasing 
excitement. Again, after we reached a point where 
we had a long view down the meadow, Maidie 
climbed a stack to get a better view in that direc- 
tion. 

"They are coming," she called. "Papa and Al- 
len are coming and they are walking very slowly. 
Oh, see how the smoke pours over this way and 
how black it is!" 

The fact that they at last were coming and that 



62 TJie Scftcmhcr Holocaust, 

they were coming slowly, reassured me, and we 
started on with the little boys, knowing that they 
would soon overtake us. As they approached I 
asked, "Why were you so long? It must be nearly 
two o'clock." 

<'We got out about twenty dollars worth of lum- 
ber and then put it into the water for fear it would 
be burned." 

"So the fire had not reached as far as there when 
you left?" 

"No, but there is great danger; the wind is ter- 
rible." 

"Are you not tired out and hungry?" as we hur- 
ried to the house. 

"Yes, very tired and hungry," but I could see 
that the same premonitory feeling of danger affected 
my husband, and he and the boy ate very little. 

Maidie began to wander round in a distracted 
way. I took a little basket, used as a lunch basket, 
and going to the bureau took out my gold watch, 
pocket book, my glasses, new and carefully fitted to 
my eyes a few weeks before in the city, looked for 
some valuable papers, and put in some clean pocket 
handkerchiefs. As I did not find the papers I was 
looking for at once, I turned to Maidie saying, "If 
the fire comes this way we must have some of the 
children's clothes bundled up." Telling her what to 
select, I succeeded in getting her to gather together 



The Seftcmher Holocaust. 63 

and tie into a bundle, two good suits for the little 
boys and a dress for herself. 

"You had better put down the windows," said my 
husband, as the wind was tearing through the house, 
blowing draperies and shades in a frantic way and 
threatening to break the slender plants in the win- 
dow boxes. 

"Where are you going?" said he, as I hung the 
basket on my arm and put on my hat. 

"I am going to see if there will be any chance for 
us to escape through 'the evergreen path' or through 
the meadow to the doctor's, if the fire comes toward 
the house." 

"Don't go," he said. "You had better stay here." 

"I must. I will turn back if I see I am in any 
danger." So saying I started off alone. Through 
our wood road the air was quite clear and I was un- 
troubled by smoke, though it seemed as if the smoke 
was coming that way, which surprised me, as I was 
then going toward the west. I thought '.'There 
must be another fire. This surely is not the same 
one we have been watching." Turning into "the 
evergreen path" 1 hurried toward the school house. 
But when I cam.e to the place, about half way through, 
where the trees were so dense, I began to realize 
that the smoke was filling these woods. As I turned 
to go back, I saw a squirrel run back and forth as if 
uncertain which way to go, and noticed that the air 
was strangely still and that leaves were dropping 



64 The September Holocaust, 

noiselessly. Hurrying back I met Allen at the en- 
trance to the path. 

"Papa sent me for you," said he. 

"We will hurry back," said I, saying little to my 
boy on the way, not wishing to rouse his fears for 
our safety. As 1 reached the house my husband 
was busy doing something about the west side, 
what, I knew not at the time, though later learned 
that he was pouring water on a pile of chips and 
lumber near by, and had been up on the house pull- 
ing boards from the roof. 

He said, shortly, "You should . not have gone 
away." 

"I am satisfied now," I returned, quietly, "that it 
would be of no use for us to try and escape that 
way. If we cannot save ourselves here we are 
lost." 

Going round to the east door I went in, my hus- 
band saying, "I will go down to the meadow and 
see how it looks," disappearing immediately through 
the short cut. 

Maidie had been vainly trying to put the kitten 
into a bag and keep her in while she tied it up. Fi- 
nally, giving up in despair, she turned to me with a 
helpless look on her face. I put the little basket on 
my sewing machine, and realizing at last that the 
fire was almost on us, though I did not then glance 
towards the woods, I said to Maidie, "Bring some 
blankets and come out to the well." Snatching one 



Tlie September Holocaust. 65 

from the bed myself, Maidie followed with another. 
A tub full of water stood near the well. T im- 
mersed the blankets in this water, and with my 
daughter's help dashed two or three pails of water 
on the wooden platform over the well. 

"Quick, the ladder! Come Maidie, come Allen." 
Dashing into the house we three drai^ged out the 
heavy ladder, got it down into the w^ell, and I be^an 
to tie on two pails each side, on the rounds I could 
reach from the top. 

Earl had begun to cry in his fright and bewilder- 
ment, and I tried to reassure him saying, '-We will 
be all right; the fire vv^ill not harm us." 

"Papa, papa," called Maidie, who at the last mo- 
ment began to regain her presence of m.ind, "come 
back, quick." Running into the house she snatched 
a light spread from the bed, just as her father re- 
turned, and running to the well he sprung dowm the 
ladder with the tub and a little box just at hand. 

Rabbits were flocking about the w^ell, running 
back and forth in sudden bewilderment. I do not 
remember to have seen an}'^ other living creature. 
The kitten had some time before vanished in the 
woods beyond the house. 



66 The September Holocaust. 



CHAPTER Vir. 

THE FIRE IS COMING. 

We were now all close by, except Maidie. Her 
papa turned the tub bottom side up in the water, 
forcing it down so it rested on the bottom, and 
placing the box on it, he was up in a flash. Maidie 
appeared at the door with the quilt in her hand. 
Calling to her to close the door, he caught hold of 
Earl's arm; meantime Maidie and Allen scrambled 
down the ladder. Forcing the struggling and scream- 
ing little boy down after them, his father waited a mo- 
ment till I followed with little Lyle, then he stepped 
down after us just far enough for his head to come 
under the platform, exclaiming "Oh, the poor little 
rabbits!" 

With a rush, and a roar, and a fearful glare of 
light, the fire was upon us in intense fury. One 
glance upward showed me this, then I turned to the 
children. 

Allen clung to the ladder, then stepped down on 
the tub, on which, and the box, stood Maidie, Earl 
and Ljde, huddled closely together. I had stepped 
down into the water, which was only knee deep. 

Maidie's quilt had been dropped into the water, 
and this we spread dripping wet over our heads, so 
that the five of us who stood below, were for the 



The Sej)temhcr Holocaust, 67 

present protected from chance sparks and fiery 
brands. My husband spread one of the wet 
blankets that had been placed in the tub, over his 
head, under the square opening through which the 
ladder projected. 

'•Oh," he groaned, "if I had only got the ladder 
out, we might have closed the opening." 

"But how could we ever get out," said I, "if you 
had done that?" 

After a time, realizing that I was standing in the 
water, he exclaimed, "You must not stand there!" 

Untying one of the pails, which I had suspended 
by ropes, thinking the little boys might stand in 
them out of water, he turned it upside down in the 
water, put a thick board which happened to be 
floating in the well, on top of the pail, and with one 
foot on the pail and the other on the tub, which was 
close by, I kept out of the water. 

Earl and Lyle kept crying incessantly, as well as 
coughing and strangling. Allen kept perfectlv 
quiet, but Maidie began to spin around as if she 
was dizzy. 

The sparks, ashes and cinders dropped in showers 
about us, but we shook them off, and kept wetting 
the tops of our heads, faces and lips in the water, 
putting it to the children's mouths, in spite of their 
cries, dashing it also on their heads at intervals. 

"Don't cry, Earl, God will take care of us. 
Keep still, Lyle, that's a good boy." I kept repeat- 



68 The September Holocaust. 

ing. "What is the matter, Maidie? Don't faint, you'll 
fall into the water for I can't hold you. Keep your 
head cool; Papa, untie the other pail; Allen, dip it 
into the water and hand it up for her to drink." 

Calm and forgetful of self, my husband stood 
above, keeping the wet blanket well over us and 
from his nearness to the opening at the top, getting 
some idea of the progress of the fire. 

With the spread dragging heavily on head and 
shoulders, I kept trying to quiet and reassure the 
frightened children. The heat was now intense and 
the smoke began to be more thick and suffocating. 

"We cannot stand this long" I thought, but before 
our endurance gave out, the smoke cleared to some 
extent, and we began to breathe more freely. 

From crying. Earl began to talk incoherently and 
in little gasps repeated, "God will take care, — We'll 
go to hebben, won't we? — God will take us to 
hebben, — He won't let us suf — The fire won't 
hurt," keeping it up so long, that I began to fear the 
child was getting flighty. 

"Oh," said papa, from above, "the house is on 
fire; oh, this is terrible, we must pray to God to 
save us." 

From our hearts the prayer ascended, though our 
lips could frame no words. 

Still the children cried piteously, while Maidie 
moaned, "Oh, my head, m3rhead!" Still we shook 
off burning sparks, and held the water, now full of 



The September Holocaust. 69 

burnt cinders and ashes, to our mouths. Our Hps and 
tongues were dry, our throats parched with heat, and 
constantly we wet the covering over our heads. 

Maidie revived a httle, and called, "Oh, papa, is 
not the worst over?" 

Hesitatingly he replied, "I am afraid not." 

"Is the house burning yet?" 

"Oh, yes, but happily the wind takes the flames 
past us." 

"How fortunate the well is in this direction and 
no nearer the house!" 

To quiet the little ones I said, "Let us sing, 'Jesus 
loves me.'" The two older children joined with me, 
and we sang softly, 

''Jesus loves me, he who died, 
Heaven's gate to open wide; 
He will wash away my sin, 
Let his little child come in." 

Gradually the sobs died away, and the little ones 
were brave and quiet the remainder of the time. 

Still' the roar of the fire sounded in our ears, and 
scorching heat waves beat upon our heads. From 
leaning against the damp earth at the side of the 
well to steady myself, I began to feel cold chills 
creeping over me, though my head seemed bursting 
with the heat. Earl also complained of being chilly. 
My husband's arm began to cramp, but he had made 
no complaint before. 



70 The September Holocaust. 

^'Is not the heat abating," I asked anxiously. "I 
think it is a little," he answered, to my great relief. 

"Just as soon as we can endure having our heads 
above ground, we must get out," I replied, "for 
we will get chilled and suffer in consequence. 

After a little he said, "I think we can venture 
out now." 

One by one we emerged from the well, and oh, 
the desolation of the sight spread out before our 
eyes! A blackened, dreary waste as far as eye 
could see. Not a timber left of the house, only a 
gaping, smoking cellar. 

All the beautiful trees laid low, only the dark 
trunks left; all smoking, many still burning. Noth- 
ing green in all the world, and waves of scorching 
heat rising all about us as we stood bareheaded and 
soiled and panting by the ruins of our home. 

Drawing off baby's shoes and stockings I set his 
shoes on a log, and spread out his stockings to dry, 
spreading out my own skirts also, that the hot air 
might pass through them. 

Near the w^ell lay an axe and hammer, whose 
handles were not greatly injured. Going over to 
where the house had stood and looking down into 
the cellar, we saw scattered parts of the sewing ma- 
chine, remnants of the stove and a few broken dish- 
es. All else had been consumed in the fierce, melt- 
in heat 



The September holocaust. ^i 

Homeless, desolate and forlorn, where should we 
turn ! 

"Oh, I am afraid the doctor's people are burned," 
said Maidie. "Their well was so near the house 
they could not have gone in there, I am sure." 

"We must start and see, and not delay," said my 
husband. 

"Can we not stay a little while and dry ourselves? 
It will not take long." 

"No; night is coming on. We must try and find 
a place of shelter." 

Putting on Lyle's shoes and taking his stock- 
ings in my hand, papa and Allen wdth each a wet 
blanket, and the rest following, we started on. As 
we crossed into the meadow, papa came back and 
taking up little Earl, who was barefooted, carried 
him over the burning ground. 

"Oh, oh," screamed Maidie, who followed, "I am 
burning my feet." As I sprang over the hot ashes 
and roots with little Lyle in my arms, hot coals stuck 
to my shoes, but in a few moments w^e were in the 
meadow where, though it was dry and crisp under 
foot, we could endure the heat of the ground. 

On we went, crossing the creek and hurrying 
over the crisped grass, keeping well away from the 
trees, up whose bare trunks fire was running, while 
at intervals they fell about us in distances more or 
less remote. 

A forlorn company was this, silhouetted against 



72 The September Holocaust, 

the dark background of blackened ground and 
stump and tree, all pride of appearance, apparel and 
condition swallowed up in the one thought of anxie- 
ty for the dear ones we might never see alive, the 
one desire, a shelter for the night, a place to rest our 
weary heads. 

My own head was in the condition known to all 
who suffer from nervous sick headaches, and fast 
becoming worse. 

I began to realize how my husband w^as suffering 
as at intervals he dropped on his knees and put his 
hands over his eyes, then he would rise and go on, 
seemingly forgetful of us all, even the little bare- 
footed boy who trudged uncomplainingly at his side. 

At last we reached the Doctor's potato field, and 
looking towards where the tree embowered house 
had stood, no vestige of it appeared. All was blank 
desolation and ruin. «'0h, where can they be?" 
thought I, with a sinking heart. 

*'Let us pull up a hill of potatoes and see if they 
are burned," said Allen. 

"No," said his papa, "do not delay," but as I passed 
through the field, I grasped a plant and pulhng it 
up, found the potatoes sound and unscorched. 

On we went, crossing soon, prostrate telegraph 
wires, stepping over smoking railroad ties, and rails 
that might be burning hot, and turning, w^alked on 
to where Mr. Nelson's house had stood. 



. ^OCToR'5 




BLOCK r^ 
ttOifbZ I 1 



Map of Settlement. 



The September Holocaust. 75 

The first sound we heard in all the wide, desolate 
expanse, was a cow bell. 

Passing the smoking ruins of Mr. Nelson's house, 
and those of Mr. Baty's near by, we stood on the 
bank above the pool, and looking down saw such a 
sight as I hope never to see again. 

Grouped upon the bank of the pool were our 
friends and neighbors, in attitudes betokening despair, 
suffering and hopeless misery. We recognized 
first the Doctor's wife and three children, Maidie 
exclaiming, ''Oh, there they are!" with a tone of 
intense relief. 

Mr. Baty, partially blindfolded, came forward 
and assisted me down the bank, while my husband 
helped the children. 

'«0h, my dear sister," I exclaimed, "you do not 
know how relieved I feel to find you safe. But 
where is Doctor?" I said presently, failing to see 
him among the people about me. 

''We do not know. Mr. Collier and Mr. Gonyea 
think he was overpowered in the fire." 

"Surely you do not think so." 

"No, I believe he will soon be with us." 

Most of the group were so covered or blindfolded,, 
that it was only by slow degrees that we recognized 
them, or learned from my sister and others near by, 
who they were. 

With backs to a trunk dragged from Mr Baty's 
house, and unscorched bv the fire, sat Mrs. Carver 



76 The September Holocaust. 

and Mrs. Baty, completely enveloped by a quilt. 
V/illie was stretched full length on the ground with 
face downward by his mother's side, while Carlton 
sat near, with his hat over his eyes, enduring with 
patient fortitude the smarting, burning sensation in 
those delicate organs. A little beyond sat Mrs. 
Berg, enveloped also by a quilt, with her bab}^ half 
undressed in her lap, and her dear Httle girls near 
her, all in an attitude mutely expressing intense 
misery and suffering. 

Here was a man stretched full length on the 
ground, so covered as to be unre^^ognizable, whom 
I afterward learned w^as Mr. Gon3^ea, hands and feet 
terribly burned, as well as eyes and lungs aching 
from smoke and heat combined. 

Mr. Berg was quietly ministering to his little fam- 
ily, while Willie Berg lay stretched on the ground. 

Mrs. Nelson and her two 3-oungest children 
formed another pathetic group, while Mr. Seymour, 
a little farther away, was suffering much as my hus- 
band, who now dropped on the ground, adding an- 
other figure to the sorrowful group. 

All were quiet and patient. No one groaned, 
none of the children cried, but the calm endurance 
of all but added to the terrible pathos of the scene. 
Calling Maidie to hold my head, I stepped to one 
side and obtained relief to some extent from the 
racking headache I had been suffering from since 
leaving the well. A second vomiting spell an hour 



T]ie September Holocaust. 77 

or so later completed the cure. Many others, espe- 
cially among the children, found relief in this way 
soon after the fire, though poor little Minnie Nelson 
suffered with the terrible sickness for a much longer 
time. 

Another party joined us, and as they approached 
a sweet little voice chanted, "All yi', all yi." Dear 
little Vernon was in his grandma's arms, and she 
told us that he had gone through it all quietly with- 
out an outcry. 

There were other groups a little farther away, 
whom we could only dimly see, as the smoke w^as 
so suffocating and blinding, and night was fast com- 
ing on. 

Some one brought potatoes for us to roast for our 
supper, others tore up aprons and passed the strips 
to those who needed bandages for their eyes, which 
included nearly every one. 

"Friends, we are all on a level now," said Mr. 
Ward^ but presently demonstrated that he was not 
quite on a level with some in suffering or in apathy, 
by starting off to reconnoiter for shelter during the 
night. He presently brought us word that he had 
discovered some box cars on the track toward Mo- 
ra. It was fast growing dark, and bidding the chil- 
dren each take a potato, I, with my family, my sis- 
ter and her children, and others started down the 
track in our quest for shelter. 

Over burning ties and smoking ground we walked 



78 The September Holocaust. 

nearly a mile, reaching at last two box cars, which 
had been switched off to the side track. One con- 
tained bundles of lath, the other, brick; all for the 
doctor's house. With the help of the men, women 
and children were soon within the first car. 

The laths were piled in tiers at one side of the 
car, one quite high, close to the end, where a square 
opening let in air; the other tier was lower down. 
The floor was clear on the other side of the car. 

There were then only Mr. and Mrs. Ward and 
their son in the car, besides my family and the 
doctor's, numbering thirteen in all. 

"Where are the others?" I asked. "I supposed 
they were coming too." 

We learned soon afterwards that they started up 
the railroad toward Hinckley, were met there by a 
train whose engine w^as turned from the track by 
spreading rails, and spent the night as we did, in 
stationary cars. 

This party afterwards went on to Pine City, and 
we saw them no more. 

We did not know until the next morning, of the 
terrible holocaust at Hinckley, and then only meager 
reports, which we were hardly able to credit. 

We disposed ourselves on the bundles of laths, 
some sitting and some lying down, making ourselves 
as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. 
Soon after, a party of about thirty Jew^s came up 
to the car. They had also saved themselves as we 



The September Holocaust, 79 

learned the others had done, by keeping under water 
to their necks, and constantly dipping their heads in. 
But for the smoke and our dim eyes, we would 
have seen them before, huddled together near the 
others. 

We tried to persuade them to go into the other 
car, that all might not be so crowded, but finally 
yielded to their wishes, and allowed them to climb 
in where we were. 

As the night came on, dense darkness settled 
down, relieved only by the fitful light from burning 
lumber near us, and stumps and trees still on fire 
across the track. 

The scene within that crowded car would have 
touched the hardest heart. About forty men, women 
and children lay stretched on the rough laths, sitting, 
with weary heads against the sides of the car, or 
lying at full length upon the floor, so closely packed 
together that it was impossible to move about with- 
out the utmost care. 

Some of the mothers forgot their little ones, who 
bravely accepted the situation and dropped off to 
sleep without pillow or coverlet. Others groaned 
and caught brief snatches of sleep, wakened by 
their cramped state of discomfort, to long wakeful 
hours of misery. 

All this time the doctor's wife knew not whether 
her husband would ever come to her again. Bravely 
her wifely heart kept up hope, refusing to believe 



8o The September Holocaust, 

him among the dead. About ten in the evening, 
the sound of the doctor's voice was heard outside 
the car. 

The princess almost shouted with glee, while 
Carlton and Willie, who had been dozing, wakened 
and joined in the general rejoicing. The relief of 
my sister was very evident, though she was so 
quiet. If I had not been in much the same state 
myself, I should have wondered then at her apparent 
apathy at that time, and also before she knew that 
her almost idolized husband was indeed safe. After- 
ward, I realized that the strain of such imminent 
danger for a time seemed to paralyze our faculties, 
and that for a long while none of us could think be- 
yond the present moment, or comprehend anything 
clearly outside of our own unusual and still precari- 
ous situation. 

"Oh, uncle," said Maidie, ''the}^ told us such 
dreadful things about you." 

"How could you have got through when Mr. 
Gonyea was so badly burned?" I asked. 

"It is a story I Vv^ill tell you at another time," he 
replied. 

"Not one of our number is missing," said my 
husband, who had roused himself for a moment. 

We heard nothing then of any burns, as doc- 
tor gave us merely a brief statement of his desper- 
ate fight with the fire in company w^ith Big Joe, 
whom he led by the hand. In the morning we dis- 



The September HoIocaiiSi, 8i 

covered that his eyes were swollen and blinded, and 
great blisters stood up on the back of his hand. 

Hearing that Mr. Gonyea, by his own request, 
had been left by those who had gone on tovvards 
Hinckley, the doctor, led by men who had some use 
of their eyes, went up the track to see if an^^thing 
could be done for the poor man before settling down 
for the night. He came back with the news that 
Mr. Gonyea desired to remain where he was, and 
that a train from Hinckley would come to our rehef 
in the moi"ning. 

With this hope to cheer us we settled down as 
best we could to endure the long hours of the night. 



82 The September Holocaust. 



CHAPTER VIII. 
ONE Sunday's experiences. 

At intervals those who slept would rouse and 
words would be exchanged. 

"Oh, is it not nearly morning?" called one wea- 
rily. Mr. Ward struck a match and looked at his 
watch. It was nearly two o'clock. I think we were 
all glad that it was after midnight. "The sun rises 
at 5 129. We will see the morning light before many 
hours," was the cheering word of one. 

At one time, feeling oppressed by the atmosphere 
within the car, I left my little sleepers' heads in care 
of "the princess," who was at my side, and careful- 
ly stepping around the prostrate forms of sleepers 
on the floor, reached the wide entrance, and standing 
there inhaled breaths of purer, though smoke-laden 
air. 

Before me rose a city brilliantly illuminated; some 
lights low down in basements, others higher; still 
others in loft}^ stories; while little points, like elec- 
tric lights, shone through the seemingl}^ misty air. 
Over all the silent stars shone with softly tempered 
radiance. 

So like lights in city windows, gleaming from 
afar, st^emed those rays from burning tree and 
stump, and leafless trunk, that I returned to my 



The September Holocaust. 83 

weary vigil not a little comforted by the weird 
imagination. 

In the early evening, we had discovered that the 
ties were on fire under our car. Feeling uneasy, 
my now blind husband went outside, and after a time^ 
with the help of a better pair of eyes, succeeded in 
extinguishing it. 

As the night wore on, the doctor's wife, envel- 
oped in a blanket, yet shivering with cold, as her 
wet clothing still clung to her, began to suffer with 
an old trouble which threatened to take away her 
breath entirely. The doctor and ^'the princess" 
chafed her hands, and worked over her until she 
was relieved, but at intervals these spells returned 
to add to her discomfort and suffering, already hard 
to endure. 

The brave little "princess," herself grew more 
hoarse, and distressing coughing spells disturbed 
her already broken rest. 

Mrs. Ward, who was suffering with her eyes, as 
well as my husband, endured patiently and silently. 
Her boy, who was very sick the first part of the 
night, found some relief and rest in forgetful slumber. 
The little Jewish children endured with wonderful 
patience their share of the general discomfort, tak- 
ing the unusual circumstances in a matter of fact 
way, and making no complaint. 

At last, morning came to cheer us with the pros- 
pects of speedy relief. Water was brought to us, a 



84 The September Holocaust. 

pail full at a time, and so great was the demand for 
it by our thirsty and smoke-dried throats, that we 
found it very difficult to keep a few drops to bathe 
hands and faces, or to wet the indispensable bandages 
on our eyes. Potatoes were scraped and used as 
poultices to relieve the pain and smart in our eves. 

''Mamma," said Allen from outside the car, "we 
have found some eggs that were dropped from the 
train yesterday for Mr. Berg. They are cooked by 
the fire and every one can have hard baked eggs for 
breakfast." 

As we had had nothing to eat since the noon be- 
fore, the brown shells were soon removed, and these 
eggs with potatoes and raw cabbage constituted a 
breakfast not to be despised. 

<'We ought to be thankful," said patient Carlton, 
who sat as the night before, with hat drawn over 
his ej'es, ''that we have any breakfast at all." 

"Indeed, we should," Vv^as the hearty reply. 

Some of us felt the lack of combs, handkerchiefs, 
and water enough to bathe faces and hands freely 
more than anything else, but when after dark on 
that Sunday night I at last obtained a comb it would 
not go through my hair, which was matted with 
ashes, dust and cinders. 

We heard no word of complaint from the doctor, 
but exhausted with pain and fatigue he kept very 
quiet the first part of the day. Once he said, "Some 



The September Holocaust, 87 

one ought to go and see if Mr. Gonyea needs any- 
thing." 

No one else volunteered, and believing myself to 
be as able-bodied as any one there, and much more 
so than some, I made up my mind to at least walk 
up to where he had been left, and try and encourage 
him. Climbing down from the car I began my walk 
along the track. No fear of heavy freight trains 
now, or of the Limited dashing through with tre- 
mendous speed. 

The ground was still smoking in so many places 
that it was impossible for me to uncover my eyes 
with any comfort, so spreading one thickness of 
cloth over them, I walked on, avoiding carefully the 
many pitfalls by the way, going round a dangerous 
place I remembered passing by the night before. 

When opposite our settlement I found it impossi- 
ble to locate any house in that direction. At last, 
as I neared the ruined trestle, I saw what I knew 
must be the ruins of the mill, smoking and blazing 
as well. Further on a pile of sawdust was sending 
up a dismal volume of smoke, and taking my bear- 
ings by these, I crossed over and passed on in the 
vicinity where the stables had stood. A great ox 
lay turned on one side, and as the creature seemed 
not to be burned, even slightly, I concluded that it 
had been suffocated. 

Of the many who the day before had been 
burned to death, we were spared the sight. 



88 The Sej>te7nher Holocaust. 

Going on a little further, I passed near where 
Mr. Baty's house had stood. As I before men- 
tioned, it was a very small frame building and I 
suppose burned so quickly as not to injure Mrs. 
Baty's trunk, which still remained on the bank 
btlow. I noticed then the ruins of their stove, and 
a pail near by, in which there were several articles 
for household use. Turning about, I almost stum- 
bled against a large easy chair, which was burned 
but little, though the seat was partly gone. 

Looking down over the bank towards the place 
where we had seen the people in' desolate groups 
the night before, the solitary figure there was Mr. 
Gonyea, completely covered with quilts, motionless 
and voiceless. I was soon at his side, and asked, 
after bidding him "Good morning," "Is there any- 
thing I can do for you?" 

"I think not," said he, "unless 3^ou can find some- 
thing for me to eat. I have had nothing since 3'ester- 
day morning." 

"I am quite sure I can," I replied, amazed at his 
brave endurance of pain, hunger and exposure. 

In the pail by Mr. Baty's house, I found crackers 
and biscuits, and leaving some potatoes to roast in 
the burning roots of an old stump, with the help 
of Frank, who soon after appeared, I presently fed 
him with the bread and roast potatoes, and gave 
him as good water as we could find, bound his poor 
hands and feet with scraped potatoes, and reluctantly 



The September Holocaust. 89 

leaving him still covered w^ith quilts sodden with 
water, went back to the car. The sorrowful sight 
of his hands and feet, blackened and blistered, with 
skin peehng off, helped me to realize the suffering I 
and my dear ones had been spared. 

Among the discomforts of that morning sojourn 
in the dingy, uncomfortable car, the joy of seeing one 
and another come up, whom we feared might be 
burned to death, stood out in strong relief. Rumors 
came at intervals of bodies being found near the 
track disfigured beyond recognition. As we thought 
of one after another of our neighbors of whose 
welfare we knew not, our hearts filled with grave 
misgivings. 

AVhere are Frank and John, and Mr. Thompson 
and Mr. Raymond's people? Where are Jay 
Braman, Mr. Anderson and family, Mr. Molander 
and his family? Where is Charlie Olson? Where 
Mr. Frame's people, and what of Mrs. Braman? 
while other names with v/hom I was less familiar, 
were spoken. 

Before I started up the track to look after Mr. 
Gonyea, some of the burden was lifted from our 
hearts by the appearance of Frank and John, Mr. 
Thompson, Mrs. Frame and part of her family, and 
Mrs. Braman. Jakey also had joined us. 

As we passed down the track the night before 
we had met Alice and Mabel Nelson, with some of 
the young section hands, coming back from their 



po The Seftanhcr Holocaust, 

trip after cranberries that da}^, but in fair condition, 
having found shelter and help in their time of peril. 

Mrs. Frame and her bo3's, with Mrs. Braman, had 
started for cranberries the day before, fortunately- 
taking plenty of water with them. When the lire 
rushed upon them, they took refuge under an over- 
hanging bank of the creek, eaten out by the thicket. 
Saturating their clothes with water, and sheltered 
by an alder thicket, they came through all right, 
though suffering much from exposure during the 
following night. 

When they appeared at the box car the following 
morning, we were glad to share with them what 
comforts w^e had to offer. 

Mrs. Braman had then seen neither husband or 
son, and though we assured her that Mr. Braman 
was safe, having been in the water with those wiio 
took refuge near the mill, and heroically helped to 
sustain women and children in their dangerous posi- 
tions, yet she felt sure that her son had suffered 
death, and that she would see his face no more. 

Poor, tearful, heart-broken mother, her fears 
were too well grounded ! 

Vainly we tried to comfort her, and bade her hope, 
feeling in our hearts even before we knew with 
certainty, that hopes were vain. 

Mrs. Frame knew not whether her husband was 
safe, but he soon appeared, having safely passed 
through the fire, as well as Dave, the oldest son. 



The September Holocaust, 91 

Now indeed we were "Bound by the bonds of a 
common belief and a common misfortune," rejoicing 
with a common joy, sorrowing with a common sor- 
row. All were friends and brothers and sisters. 

Poor Mr. Barnes, he too mourned a son. Coming 
into the car about noon, the old gentleman, who had 
been "baching it" with his son, went up to the doctor 
and said in trembling tones, as tears gathered in his 
eyes, "I fear the worst for my poor boy." [They 
had not been together the day of the fire.] Patiently 
and sorrowfully, he sat with us, and our hearts 
went out with deep sympathy to him. Later, his 
two daughters from St. Panl came into the car, and 
their quiet sorrow touched all hearts. 

During the day, word was brought that Mrs. 
Molander, her sister and two children had been 
found just outside at the corner of her house, burned 
and disfigured, but no word came of the families 
near her. 

At last rehef came to us, for those outside 
announced a hand-car from Mora. A moment more, 
and it stopped on the main track opposite our car, 
crowded with men who said, "Aren't ^^ou glad to see 
somebody?" 

"Indeed, we are," was the answer. 

These kind friends handed up dinner pails contain- 
ing bread, meat and other substantial articles of 
food, and left us, sa3^ing that they would come back 
again with more supplies and a chance for some of 



92 The Seftembcj' Holocmist, 

us to go back with them. They soon* repassed us 
with Mr. Gon3'ea and Jakey, en route for Mora, 
where our brave sufferer was kindly cared for, and 
his wounds properly dressed. 

We were then still crowded in one car, and the 
eatables w^ere divided among all, there being enough 
to satisfy us at that time and some to spare, for I 
saw one Jewish woman, after we were through 
eating, carefully guarding a lap full of bread and 
meat. Her wisdom in providing for future needs 
was certainly commendable. 

Soon after this some of us concluded to try the 
other car, and by piling bricks for seats and beds 
and pillows, and sv/eeping the floor with the side of 
a lath, we had a cleaner and hence more comforta- 
ble place, into which the doctor's family, Mrs. 
Frame's, Mr. V/ard's and my own with Mr. Barnes, 
moved, with the expectation of possibly spending 
the night. 

Later in the afternoon it was announced that the 
relief party were coming and would soon reach us. 
The first gentleman who appeared was Doctor 
Cowan, from Mora, on a velocipede. He was fol- 
lowed by other kind friends from the same place, 
who handed in package after package of delicious 
and substantial eatables^ canned meats and fruits, 
coffee, sugar, crackers, cheese, dried beef, bacon, 
canned fish and a generous supply of bread. This 
was but a hint of the kindness and generosity which 



The September Holocaust, 93 

it was our lot to receive from the good people of 
Mora, our neighboring town, twelve mi^es away. 

Kind Dr. Cowan came at once into our car and 
with bandages and liniments ministered to the doc- 
tor and others whose eyes needed care. Then 
mounting again his train velocipede, he hastened 
away toward Hinckley. 

So soiled and unkempt and discolored were we, 
that I, at least, would gladly have kept out of sight, 
but Mr. Ward being appointed distributor of the 
stores, and requesting me to assist, the generous 
supplies were soon handed to those in both cars, all 
faring alike, and a good comfortable meal was the 
portion of each. 

"We can take some of you back with us," said 
our new friends, who had two hand cars and a push 
car, on which Mr. Nelson and family were already 
seated. 

Doctor and wife announced their determination 
to remain where they were; "the princess" and the 
two bo3's would remain too, with Maidie, who 
wished to cast her lot for the present with her friend 
and cousin. An opportunity was given to the Jew- 
ish women, who had little ones that were sick, as 
was the case with some, to go too. As all wished 
to go, or none, my husband and myself with Allen 
and *'the whooping coughers," as my sister called 
them, with Mrs. Frame and her younger boys 



94 The September Holocaust, 

embarked, after tying cloths about the children's 
heads to protect them from the cool air. 

So, surrounded by kind and sympathizing friends, 
this forlorn party went on to Mora, reaching there 
after dark. On the way, one of our friends jumped 
off the car and ran up a steep bank, bringing back 
with him the large bag of cranberries gathered by 
Mabel and Alice Nelson the afternoon of the fire, 
and left by them on the outskirts ot the burned 
district. Though we had to get off, while the men 
carried our hand cars around the burned ties and 
bridges, in places, we went on, with lightened 
hearts to a friendly reception in the pleasant and 
hospitable town of Mora. 



The September Holocaust, 95 



CHAPTER IX. 

THROUGH MANY DANGERS. 

"Will you tell me what happened from the time 
you left your home until we saw you, after our own 
escape from the terrible fire ?" I said to "the princess," 
when opportunity presented some time later. 

"I will try and do the best I can," said she. 
"About two o'clock we noticed how badly smoked 
up the sky was. It looked almost as if it might be 
an eclipse of the sun, the smoke made it look so red. 
It kept getting worse and worse, and mamma 
thought she better go up to the boarding house and 
see how things looked. 

"She got as far as the school house, couldn't see 
the flames anywhere, so came back. I started to 
read a story to her, but we couldn't seem to fix our 
minds on it; we would look up every once in a 
while and say, *Oh, how smoky it is getting.' 

"Finally it got so bad that we thought we had 
better go again and see how things were. Just 
then WilHe came, saying there was a fire near the 
mill. (Willie had been down by the box car with 
another boy and something made him think he had 
better leave and go home.) Carlton appeared a 
few minutes afterwards. We had sent him up to 



96 The September Holocaust. 

the store. Everything was in confusion up there, 
people were tr3'ing to get things out of their houses 
in hopes of saving them (the things). 

"We started in the path that leads to the school 
house. Willie says, *Come this way, if you want to 
see the fire.' We then went the path that leads to 
Mr. Nelson's. After we got past the creek, we 
noticed that the woods around the school house 
were all on lire. 

I knew then there was no hope for our house to 
be saved. V/e all wanted to go different ways. 
Mamma thought we had better go up the railroad 
track, Carlton thought we had better go home and 
pack the things up, so v/e would be prepared 
when the fire came ; I wanted to go up to Mr. Nel- 
son's and see what they wxre going to do. 

"We finally decided to go there. When we got 
there all was confusion, and they were \x^Ax\^ to get 
their things out. 

"I asked Mrs. Baty what to do; she said, "Go 
down to the creek," so we went. People kept 
coming from all directions to get to a place of 
refuge. 

"We had been there about two minutes, when we 
were obliged to go in the water as the sparks began 
to catch on our clothes. When we were in the 
water it looked just like a cyclone of fire ; any where 
you would look you would see nothing but fire. 

"When the bridge was on fire we would go on 



2 

w 

M 

O 
CO* 

H 
O 




The Seftemher Holocaust. 99 

the opposite side of the creek, and when the mill 
was on fire, we went on the side where the bridge 
was. While we were in the creek, a cow came 
running down the bank and plunged head first into 
the water. It g-ot where it was over its head and 
began to swim. 

"We stayed till the fire had gone by (which 
seemed to be two or three hours) and then got out 
and had to dry our clothes on us. We had just 
been out a few moments when your folks came." 

I learned that Mr. Braman, Seymour, Baty and 
others, got over fifty of the villagers into a deep 
pool two to four rods wide near the dam. The 
latter caught fire and blazed fiercely. On one side 
was the railroad bridge, one hundred and thirty feet 
long, and on the other, slabs and refuse lumber 
thrown over the bank, while just beyond was more 
than one hundred cords of hard wood and other 
lumber. The mill was not far away and the stables 
still nearer, so that they were completely encircled 
by terrible fires that burned furiously after the 
main blaze had swept onward. Across the bridge 
was a shallow pool where twenty-five people saved 
themselves in much the same way. 

The water was so hot that the fish were found 
dead. It was here in the deeper pool that the drop 
of eighteen to twenty feet was known to be, and it 
was probably due to the heroic care of the men, that 



lOO The September Ilolocattst. 

some of the women and children were saved from 
drowning. 

Carlton's version of the fire, given in a letter to 
Meb, and dated Sept. 9th, will not be without in- 
terest: 
Dear Sister Meb : 

I expect you have read of the great fire that 
all the papers are talking about. I asked mamma 
what to write about and she said "Write about the 
fire," so I will tell you about it. 

Right after dinner papa went out to" Mr. Collier's 
to fight fire, so when the fire came papa was not 
with us. When it came I was up to the store. 
WilHe was up to the depot, but when I came back 
Willie was there, and they were going to see about 
the fire. 

As it happened we did not go to the school house, 
and when we got to the garden, the fire was burn- 
ing the school house, so we escaped that way, but 
when we got to Mr. Nelson's all the people were 
excited, so we went to the pond just below the dam. 
The fire soon became too hot, so we went into the 
water and after a while all the things were burning 
around us, but we kept wet and were all right. 

Papa ran through the fire with "Big Joe," but Joe 
got discouraged and didn't want to go further, but 
papa took him by the hand and so saved him. 
PVom your loving brother, 

Carlton. 



The September Holocaust. lOi 

P. S. — Wasn't it funny about cousin Horace's 
box? He came up to Mora, Tuesday after the fire. 
Just as he got off the train, he saw us getting on. 
So he had the box put back on the train. The box 
was men's clothing, and when he found that papa 
and uncle had stayed in the burned district, he ship- 
ped it back again from Minneapolis. C. 

Asking my husband afterward how the fire 
looked to him, he replied: ''When I was in the well 
the heat was so great above the well deck that I 
could not see except over head. When the fire was 
at its worst there was a contnuous flame above us. 

"Just as I went into the well I took a glance about 
me. To the east the large trees caught fire in the 
top from the heated air. They burned with great 
fury. To the south and west there w^as a solid wall 
of fire that was like a furnace fire, and rolled up fifty 
feet at least and melttd the trees as if they were 
wax candles. 

"The house being of solid blocks burned a long 
time after the main fire had swept far beyond us, 
into the woods north." 

I obtained from the doctor an account of his ex- 
perience on that memorable afternoon. He also 
told me of the manner in which some of those who 
joined us on the following day were able to save 
themselves. 

"John Powers, Mr. Thompson and Frank saved 
themselves by back-firing on a large meadow and 



I02 The September Holocaust. 

putting wet blankets over themselves. Mrs. Car- 
ver's daughter-in-law and two children were taken 
on the Eastern Minnesota train and taken back to 
Superior. 

"We had cleared a piece of ground south of the 
box cars that were saved, with the stump puller. 
This and the burning over of this piece of land be- 
fore, saved the cars. Mr. Frame saved himself by 
reaching a piece of land that had been burned over 
before, and as it was on the edge of the fire, the heat 
was not sufficient to cause it to burn over again. 

"We stayed by Mr. Collier's house, hoping to 
save it, till we were surrounded by the fire. When 
the house burst into flames we jumped into a tub of 
water and poured water over each other; made a 
dash and were nearly overcome by the heat the first 
few rods; then the heat was not so intense, but 
painful to endure, and the smoke nearly suffocated 
us. 

"After running about one hundred and twenty 
rods, all of us were obliged to lie down and bury our 
faces in our hands and the ground in order to breathe 
and rest from the suffocation and exhaustion. 

"Soon after starting again I fell, and told Mr. 
Gonyea, who was behind me, to go on and save 
himself. Mr. Collier had also gone on, and Mr. 
Chipris (Big Joe, as he was called,) and myself 
were left behind. My companion became blind and 



The Sejytember Holocaust. 103 

could go no further, he thought. I took hold of his 
hand and led him. 

"We succeeded in reaching the creek bed, and 
were filled with unspeakable thankfulness to God 
when we found that we could breathe, and that the 
heat was not so great as to endanger our lives fur- 
ther. I staid in the creek bed about three hours, 
then started up the creek leading "Big Joe" by the 
hand. I found Mrs. Frame and six children and 
Mrs. Braman in the creek bed about one mile above; 
left my blind companion with them, and after being 
started in a wagon road near them, felt my way 
home by keeping my right foot in the wagon track 
where I could feel the dust, and thus knew that I 
was in the road. 

"I reached home at about 10:30, to find the vil- 
lage burned and my family and neighbors in the 
box cars." 

The doctor and family and Maidie remained in 
the box car another twenty-four hours after we left 
them, my sister enjoying the luxury of a mattress 
that had been brought from Mora on the hand car. 
The others slept on bricks with insufficient cover- 
ing, or none at all. 

Pleasant surprise was theirs and our own, how- 
ever, when one and another friend from distant points, 
during the following day made their appearance, 
rejoicing that the sad news they had received of 



1 04 TJie September Holocaust. 

disaster to the doctor's family and mine^ was happily 
without ground. 

The sad information came to us from time to time 
of those who perished on the first of September, 
eighteen hundred ninet^^-four, in our own settlement 
at Pokegama. Mr. Raj-mond's wife, three children, 
Mrs. Charles Anderson and her two children, and 
Mrs. Anderson's brother and sister Nora, were all 
found about one hundred rods northeast of Mr. Ray- 
mond's house. Charlie Olson was found about six 
rods from Mr. Molander's house. Mrs. Molander, 
her sister and two children were found about ten 
feet from the door of their house. 

This information was given by the doctor three 
weeks after the fire. Further particulars came from 
J. D. Markham, of Rush City, of the firm of Kelsey 
& Markham, who owned the town site. 

"We found Chas. Olson's body on Molander's 
farm and I assisted to bury it, w^ith Mr. Molander's 
family, Anderson's and Raymond's, and Jay Bra- 
man. 

"Mr. James Barnes' body was sent to St. Paul, 
and Erick Larson, the section man, was buried at 
Mora. Whitney and Goodsell's bodies not yet 
found, though persistent and frequent searches have 
been made. It is feared they were all burned up. 
There were no doubt twenty-three or twenty-four 
of ours burned up. Joseph Gonyea is in St. 



The S eft ember Holocaust. 105 

Raphael's hospital in St. Cloud, feet and hands 
badly burned. 

*«A11 our burials were on Molander's place and 
Raymond's place. Mr. Braman assisted. All were 
put in decent boxes and funeral services held, with 
appropriate addresses given by Rev. Wm. Wilkin- 
son, of Minneapolis, Episcopal clergyman of St. 
Andrew's church in that city, assisted by Rev. Fos- 
broke, of Sunrise, Minnesota, and Mr. Barnes, a di- 
vinity student of the INlethodist church at Hamlin e, 
living at Milaca, all fine men and real workers, 
physical as well as spiritual. 

"A cross of lath marks the grave of each unfor- 
tunate." 

The same gentleman's account of the party of 
our neigiibors who went on toward Hinckley the 
night of the fire, and the story of the efforts for the 
relief of those who remained over two nights in the 
burned district, have an interest peculiarly their own. 

"Some remained in a coach and some in boxcars, 
the coach was about two and one-half miles east of 
Pokegama, or five and a half miles from Hinckley. 
They got to Pine City Sunday afternoon. Mr. 
Carver and his wife reunited at the dam at Brook 
Park, or Pokegama."* (The elder Mr. Carver had 
gone up to Hinckley the day of the fire, with his 
daughter-in-law and two children on their way home 

*Brook Park and Pokegama are the same, the post office 
being Brook Park. 



io6 The September Iloloccmst, 

to Wyoming. We heard later that his son after 
the fire, was searching for wife and children, and 
did not know for many days that they were taken 
in safety to Superior.) 

"Mr. Braman gave up his wife as burned, but later 
she was brought to the coach, where they were 
again together. 

"Mr. Seymour was only blinded from heat and 
smoke, and had to be led about for a few da3^s. 

"Mr. Baty and family went on to La Crosse, but 
Mr. Baty, senior, is now at Brook Park, at work 
building. 

"Mr. Berg's family came on here, (to Rush City) 
Sunday afternoon, when we took them to my house, 
where with the aid of our good ladies here, they 
were clothed and made comfortable. Mr. Berg and 
Willie returned to Brook Park, while Mrs. Berg 
and children went to St. Paul to friends. They are 
now at Brook Park in a cabin of their own ; went 
last Friday. 

"The first hand car that went in from Hinckley 
Sunday, was of Rush City young men. They 
carried the car over burned bridges, etc., and took 
a can of milk. Their names are Geo. Knight, Gust. 
Lindgren, Grant Smith, W. S. Chapin, and B. 
O'Leary, I believe, and possibly others. They 
brought out the people from the coach, and some 
went a second trip back to the box cars . 

"On the Monday night, Sept. 3d, I started with a 



The September Holocaust. 107 

party and a hand car, from Hinckley. We had 
thirty pairs of blankets, one barrel of bread, six 
planks, a good tent and poles, three shovels, one 
spade, one axe, one saw, one pick-axe, one water 
pail, two lanterns, three satchels, three lunch baskets 
and the personal extras of the party, also a cedar 
post. Starting at 6:15 p. M., got to boxcars at 
Pokegama just before i a. m., had to leave the 
car at the east side of the trestle bridge, beyond the 
dam, and carry blankets, etc., nearly a mile to the 
box cars, where we found people cold, and covered, 
some with wet clothes, others with nothing. 

"We slept (or tried to) from about 2 to 5 A. m. 
We made ten or fifteen transfers of the hand car,, 
alv/ays unloading and reloading except in a few 
instances w^e got over by aid of the post as a roller 
under the car. We had a long transfer around the 
wrecked train, also at one bridge, to go round, had 
to shovel fire and ashes to get through, with a ter- 
rific wind blowing, and dangerous looking, I can 
assure you. 

"The party were Dr. H. B. Allen, Cloquet; Dr. 
C. W. Higgins, Minneapohs; Rev. Wm. Wilkinson, 
of the same city; B. J. Kelsey, Kenyon, of our 
firm; Rev.Fosbroke, of Sunrise Minn., (Episcopal) ; 
Mr. Alex Berg, Mr. Thompson, of New Brighton, 
Minn., (brother of our Mr. Thompson); W. W. 
Braman and myself. It was an awful experience. 



io8 The September Holocaust. 

Joe Coblln's poor log shanty four miles southeast, 
is the onl}^ house in our settlement not burned." 

Capt. W. P. Allen, of the C. N. Nelson Lumber 
Company, of Cloquet, Minn., started shortly after 
his brother Dr. Allen did, with a trunk of clothing. 
Leaving the train at Pine City, he rode twenty-eight 
miles across the country to Mora, only to find his 
two sisters and their famihes gone to New Brighton 
and Cloquet. Promising to send lumber and men 
from Cloquet to build a house for his brother-in-law, 
C. W. Kelsey, he returned to help care for those 
who preceded him. 

Thanks to the generosity of the Relief Commit- 
tee, backed by hundreds of sympathizing friends, 
who showed in this time of utter need, their sym- 
pathy in substantial ways, many of those who sur- 
vived have returned to the settlement at Brook 
Park, or will return when houses are ready for 
them. 

Already fully a dozen married mtn are hard at 
work, preparing shelter for their families, besides 
:five or six single men, while carpenters and masons 
from Cloquet and Minneapolis, and a civil engineer 
from Minneapolis, who is surveying lots and lands, 
are on the ground, with Rev. Mr. Wilkinson's son in 
charge. One man has gone to St. Paul to bring 
back his family. 

Parties from South Dakota are comino- in to make 
a permanent home. Ten houses are now under 



The September Holocaust. 109 

way, or will soon be commenced. Work has com- 
menced on a new school house, and it is hoped school 
will begin in one month. 

"All are in a hustle of work with the first house, 
(that given by Capt. W. P. Allen) rushing up, as 
the best and most substantial in it or in Hinckley, so 
far," writes one who was on the ground at an early 
date, after the fire. 



no The Septefuber Holoccmst. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE GREATER HOLOCAUST. 

The reader has thus far been led by familiar 
sketches of the people of one settlement and vicinity, 
to enter to some extent into the experiences of those 
who on one day were quietly and happily pursuing 
their usual avocations, and the next w^ere thrown 
into dismay and misery by the ruin of home and 
property. To this was added the unspeakable 
anguish caused by the conviction that there were 
many of their friends and neighbors, who had passed 
through the fiery furnace of flames, and, in one 
moment were beyond help. 

If the thought of a score of human lives going 
out in a fearful agony of pain, is heart-rending, lan- 
guage fails when we contemplate the fact that on 
that first day of September, eighteen hundred and 
ninety-four, hundreds were cut down remorselessly 
in more thickly settled communities lying in the 
wake of this devastating conflagration. 

The overflowing cup of horror is full to the very 
brim. Little children, sprightly youth, men and 
women in their prime and the gray-haired, were 
swept out of life in that seething tempest of wind and 
flame, while hundreds of homes and the accumula- 
tions of years were engulfed in the common 



The Scfiemher Holocaust. iii 

ruin. In neighboring towns, miles and miles av\^ay, 
the shadow of presentiment darkened the skies, and 
filled with apprehension the hearts of those who felt 
assured that something of terrible import was hap- 
pening. Some e\^en believed that the end of the 
world was at hand. 

At four o'clock the darkness of night seemed 
approaching, telegraphic communications were cut 
off, and only vague rumors hinted of the dreadful 
holocaust soon to be revealed in all its magnitude. 

All too soon tangible reports confirmed the flying 
rumors. Hinckley, and adjacent towns on the St. 
Paul & Duluth and on the Eastern Minnesota, were 
completely wiped out. 

After noon of that memorable day, the wind, al- 
ready strong, had become a hurricane, and forest 
fires that had been smoldering for weeks joined 
and swept forward as one, with resistless fury. Two 
hundred men had been fighting fire on the outskirts 
of the town of Hinckley. 

No human power could stop it now. All fled for 
their lives, abandoning completely the hope of sav- 
ing property of any description. In the terrible race, 
hundreds were mown down and hundreds more 
would have perished, had it not been for the hero- 
ism of those brave men whose names wall go down 
to posterity as heroes of the hour. 

The St. Paul & Duluth (Limited), making the run 
from Duluth with Sullivan,conductor,and James Root, 



1 1 2 The September Holocaust. 

engineer, entered a belt of land where the smoke 
was so dense that one could not see his hand before 
him. The smoke cleared, and they reached a point 
two to three miles from Hinckley about 3 p. m. 
Here people rushed toward the train from all di- 
rections, to the number of one hundred and twent} - 
five, shouting, '^Hinckley is being burned to cinders! 
For God's sake, save us!" 

These people were taken on the train, swelling 
the passenger list to nearly two hundred and sixty. 
The engineer says, *'I could see no fire then, but all 
of a sudden the wind came with a rush. As I 
stepped into my cab everything seemed to be a ball 
of fire. It was as sudden as a flame bursting from 
a lamp." 

The train was now on blaze from end to end, the 
engineer's clothes on fire, the thick panes in the 
coach windows bursting with heat and smashing in 
pieces, the passengers wild with fear, some throw- 
ing themselves from the train. Those who remained 
were taken to the vicinity of a swamp, and leaving 
the fated train made a rush for their lives and 
reached the slush and mud in Skunk Lake, which 
proved to them a haven of refuge. Here they re- 
mained all night; help reached them in the morn- 
ing from Pine City, and they were at last conveyed 
to Duluth and Superior. 

The heroic conductor, Sullivan, remained at his 
post, calm and collected, while many of the passen- 



TJie Scftcmbcj" Holocaust. 113 

gers were losing their senses. But when the worst 
was over, and the train lay a ruined mass of smok- 
ing debris, one and a half miles south of Sandstone, 
Sullivan broke down, and later was taken to a hos- 
pital to recover his shattered reason. 

"Our escape was entirely due to the thoughtful- 
ness and heroic efforts of Engineer Root, sustained 
by his brave fireman," is the unquaHfied assertion of 
one of the passengers. The noble man was terribly 
burned during the retrograde flight from the fire, at 
one time fainting away. 

Not less striking, was the courage and high sense 
of fidelity to duty, shown by the conductor and engi- 
neer of the Eastern Minnesota, which, leaving 
Superior early in the afternoon, reached Hinckley 
in its hour of need. These noble men held the train, 
the caboose and five freight cars vv'ere hastily detached 
from the way freight, a portion of which V\^as on fire» 
Attaching these cars to the passenger train, room 
was afforded for a large number. 

Engineer Best stood at his post; the town was 
now swept by billows of fire, and the flame-pursued 
people rushed to the train and were helped on board 
to the number of four to five hundred. 

Conductor Powers acted the hero throut'hout the 
whole catastroplie. He uncoupled the engine from 
the train, crossed a burning trestle \N\ih. it, to get 
the freight cars, hauled them back, then calming the 
fears of crazed women and children, hurried all on 



114 ^^^^ September Holocaust. 

the train and holding his train till the last minute, 
carried it across burning bridges, over tracks where 
the ties were a fire, and the rails liable to w^arp and 
dash the train to destruction, out to safety, through 
heat so terrific as to be almost insufferable, and 
througli smoke so dense as to obscure everything 
except the horror on every side.* 

This train passed safely through, reaching Duluth 
at about 9:20 that night, where the large number 
saved w ere cared for by the noble generosit}^ of the 
people of that c\X.y. 

Engineer Best in describing the situation says, 
<'After leaving Superior at 1 115 p. m., I had to light 
the head light, owdngtothe dense smoke that turned 
day into night. The smoke and heat increased as 
we approached Hinckley. I expected that when 
we reached that point w^e W'ould get into the open 
and escape from the smoke. My surprise w^as great 
therefore, w'hen we found the fire right upon the 
town. It took but a glance to see that the town was 
doomed. The wind blew with great velocity, and 
the flames fairly leaped through the air. The people 
were taken by surprise and w^ere terrorized and 
helpless. The coming of the fire seemed like a 
stroke of lightning. 

"Away we went through the blazing woods, and 
may be we didn't fly. The telegraph posts and the 

*We are indebted to Twin City and Duluth papers for 

these facts. 



The September Holocaust. 115 

ties were on fire and a stream of flame passed under 
the train. The people were packed so closely in 
the train that it was impossible to move. We passed 
several bridges that were on fire. At Partridge we 
stopped and procured water for the passengers. 
The fire was roaring behind us then. Within half 
an hour the fire had reached Partridge. This fact 
gives an idea of how fast the flames traveled. 

"We all drew a sigh of relief when we reached 
the limits of Superior and knew our precious freight 
was safe." 

At the northwestern edge of Hinckley was the 
mill pond. On its bank stood the plant of the Bren- 
nan Lumber Co. and its yard, with about half a 
million feet of sawed lumber. Many were seen on 
their way to this pond, but none returned. 

A special to the Duluth Nezvs- Tribune says: 
"Your correspondent has viewed to-day (Sept. 2d) 
three hundred and twelve separate dead bodies and 
there are many others he has been unable to reach." 

Many were so completely incinerated that they 
could not be identified. There were other towns 
totally wiped out. Mission Creek, Miller, Sand- 
stone, Pokegama, afterwards called Brook Park, 
and adjacent territory swell the sorrowful list. In 
Sandstone four or five hundred people were left 
homeless, while more than half a hundred are num- 
bered among the burned. Of outlying districts the 
whole truth may never be known. 



ii6 The September Holocaust, 

Great honor is due to those who carefully sought 
and interred the bodies of the dead, many of whom 
were buried where they fell, while others were 
placed in trenches or wells. Orders were to care- 
fully preserve anything which might lead to identi- 
fication, and to mark the graves and make a careful 
note of their location. 

The death roll has never been called and perhaps 
never will, as many took refuge in the quarries near 
Sandstone, some in Kettle River in a deep gorge, 
while others in wells, died a death which was a mix- 
ture of drowning, suffocating and burning. 

It is a picture too sad to dwell on long. From the 
universal sorrow some found cause for joy and 
thankfulness ; joy, that those they believed dead were 
safe, and in time were restored to them; thankful- 
ness, that though in many cases property was all 
swept away, yet dear ones, whole families in many 
cases, passed through the fiery ordeal unscarred. 

With pleasure we record the countless instances 
of heroism, self-sacrifice and helpfulness in individu- 
al cases and the noble generosity of the people at 
large. 

It has been truly said "That such a condition should 
touch the hearts of the commonwealth was but 
natural, and from every part of the country came 
spontaneous relief. Men who had hitherto been 
miserly, gave freely of their gold; presidents of 
soul-less corporations gave thousands of dollars; 



The September Holocaust. 117 

food and clothing came from thousands of homes^ 
and even prattling school children collected coppers 
to add to the fund." The statement that "the eco- 
nomic loss resulting from these great forest fires will 
reach into the millions, but as yet no computation of 
it is possible," is no doubt true. 

Many who were enjoying prosperity and were 
surrounded by the comforts and luxuries of life, 
to-day find themselves, thanks to the generosity of 
the people, possessed indeed of the necessaries of 
life; 3^et the change is great. 

A few, by the equal and impartial distribution of 
funds through wise and reliable committees, are 
lifted perhaps from squalor and poverty to a fair 
condition. 

By far the greater number probably, begin life 
anew, under comparatively unfavorable circum- 
stances. Yet to these there is hope that out of this 
seemingly great loss, will come an improved condi- 
tion in 3^ears to come. 

This great conflagration has swept away a vast 
amount of wooded growth which must in time have 
been cleared b}^ the incessant toil of the pioneer. 

The very ashes will form a fertilizer which will 
enrich the soil, now transformed into a vast agricul- 
tural district. There still remains in sections at 
least, wood that may be utilized as fuel, and the 
ground will be m.uch more easity cleared and seeded 
than before this would have been possible. 



ii8 The September Holocaust. 

These great fires will not be without valuable 
results in w^aking up the people to the need of pro- 
tecting in the future the vast wooded districts of the 
country from a repetition of this calamity. Already 
means have been discussed in the St, Paul Confer- 
ence early in October. 

Plans are being outlined for the prevention of such 
fires, and the encouragement of forestry. Stringent 
laws will be enforced. Thus in the years to come, 
it may be said that from ''The September Holo- 
caust," have risen monuments that shall be a lasting 
glory and benefit to the American people. 



The September Holocaust, up 



CHAPTER XL 

AFTERMATH. 

A trip through the burned district on the 27th of 
October brings us to Hinckle}^, rapidly being re- 
built. All is ahve with activity. New dwelHngs 
are springing up as by magic, while larger business 
blocks are taking shape. There were reported at 
that time one hundred and fifty-four new buildings 
at Hinckley and vicinity. About thirty more will 
be built this fall. The Eastern Minnesota has erect- 
ed a new depot, which is now nearly completed. 

Beyond the St. Paul & Duluth tracks may be 
found the long building containing the stores of the 
relief committee. Here may be seen piles of cloth- 
ing of every size and description, supplies for table 
and all necessary articles for household use. By print- 
ed cards the applicants receive orders on this depart- 
ment, and all pressing wants are supplied by the 
kind friends who represent the committee here. The 
intention is to treat all with like consideration. 

The station of the St. Paul & Duluth road is a 
low frame building close by the track. We saw a 
woman there talking with the agent and her eyes 
were overflowing. They were not the only tears 
shed that da}-, as incident after incident was brought 
to our knowledge of those among the survivors who 



I20 The September Holocaust. 

failed to find their friends, or suffered from subse- 
quent effects of the strain of September first. One 
family was specially noticeable at that time. There 
was such a drawn look of suffering visible upon the 
mother's face that a lady near me suggested that 
she might be suffering from sick headache, offering 
a lemon for her relief. 

Going to the group I inquired of the mother, who 
held her youngest on her lap, if she were suffering. 
"Yes," she answered, "and I have been sick ever 
since the fire." 

She with her family had escaped on the train, and 
her four little children, warmly and prettily clad, 
gave evidence of the kind generosit}^ tbey had met 
with at Duluth. They were now on their way to 
Rutledge, where a new home awaited her, but the 
look on her face told volumes of what she had been 
through and of her present unfitness to care for her 
little family. There was a look of patient gratitude 
on her husband's face, and both showed pleasure at 
our interest in their sad case. 

Near this station was a temporary eating house, 
and small white tents dotted the ground near by, 
while the ruined walls of a large brick school house 
loomed in the background. 

It seemed strange indeed to see the buildings of 
the Eastern Railway intact — water tanks, coal sheds, 
round house, etc., — while all about, the ground was 
ploughed up by the fire, trees divested of their leaves 



The September Holocaust. 121 

bending toward the ground, some of them quite 
prostrate, though not uprooted, and a few rods away 
were the ruins of a building, the stove shattered, the 
cellar 3^ awning. 

*'Oh," we thought, ''if the people had only known, 
they might have run to these buildings and their 
vicinity for shelter." 

That the fire and wind on September first was 
indeed of the nature of a cyclone, was demonstrated 
in many ways. The fact that the fire jumped from 
place to place was be3'ond controvers}'. At Hinck- 
ley, a trunk that was carried across some of the 
tracks of the St. Paul & Duluth, was unharmed, 
though everything was melted not fifty yards awa}'. 
The trees at Pokegama v>^ere bent in most places 
toward the northeast, yet in places a few rods away 
there were seen some turned in the opposite direction. 

Mr. Berg, at Pokegama, thinking he could save 
his house, watched the fire and only gave up hope of 
rescuing his property when the house was ignited. 
He said the fire flashed through the rdr in a moment's 
time, and did not reach the house by way of the 
trees or the grass near. He had tried to persuade 
his wife to remain, as he thought the house perfectly 
protected. 

Scores of trees were uprooted and these with the 
light earth clinging to the roots, formed perpendicular 
walls which faced in different directions. 

Mrs. Meyers of Barnum, told me that they lighted 



122 The SepLemhcr Holocaust, 

lamps at that place at 3 130 p. m., and for weeks had 
holes dug in the ground in which to take refuge. 
Some of her neighbors thought the last day had real- 
ly come, though little reahzing at the time, that it 
was indeed the last day to so many. 

The depot agent at Hinckley telegraphed to 
Rutledge, "We are surrounded by fire, I must go," 
making a rush for his life. 

Two young ladies by the name of Gunn, were 
many hours under water; being unwilling at first to 
submerge themselves, they were held down by a 
kind friend who realized their great peril. 

It was reported that the mill pond at Hinckley 
was drained after the fire, and one hundred and fifty 
bodies were found. On the fatal day, a blind man, 
and an invalid who was unable to rise from a roller 
chair, were saved, while others less helpless dropped 
by the way. 

So strong was the wind, that trees were heard 
falling in the woods half an hour or more before the 
fire swept through. 

While waiting for the train at Hinckley, I met 
Mr. Baty on his way home to Wisconsin, to remain. 
So in the voyage of life, some favoring wind brings 
in sight a familiar sail which we signal gladly and 
pass, knowing not whether we shall ever see it 
again on this side the harbor bar. 

He told me that only that morning had the body 
of Fred Molander been found in a well on his own 



The Scftemher Holocaust. 123 

place. Mr. Baty's theory was, that returning to find 
his wife and children beyond hope, he hurried into 
the well near his house, which caved in on him, 
shutting off his last hope of rescue. The bodies 
first supposed to be those of Mr. Anderson and Mr. 
Molander, were those of Mr. Whitney and Mr. 
Goodsell, and no trace had yet been found of Mr. 
Anderson. 

Many incidents only too true, that would have 
interested all and touched each heart, have been 
omitted from this recor.d. Space and time forbid 
the telling of much that would speak loudly of 
heroism, fortitude and endurance, both on the part 
of those who lived through the hours so fraught 
with suffering and danger, and of the friends who 
through stupendous difficulties, forced their way to 
the relief of those who were in so great peril. 

To the railroad companies who furnished free 
transportation to the fire sufferers, grateful ac- 
knowledgements are offered. The expense of re- 
pairing roads to these companies was very great. 
One bridge over Kettle River on the Eastern Min- 
nesota required fifteen days for repairs. In passing 
from Hinckley to Mora the number of new bridges 
and culverts give proof of the extensive repairs 
necessary on this road after the fire. Men are still 
at work putting in new ties and leveling the tracks. 

To the doctors who rendered such kind and effi- 
cient aid throughout those trying times, faithful 



124 ^^^^ September Holocaust, 

friends who were first to come and last to go, such 
reward as comes from hearts full of gratitude is and 
ever shall be yours. 

To every one who contributed to the relief of the 
imfortunates, either great sums or small, the univer- 
sal sentiment of those who had a share in this lar- 
gess must be, God bless you now and always. To 
those who at Pine City, St. Cloud, notably at Du- 
luth, the Twin Cities and many other points nobly 
gave in countless ways to lighten and relieve the 
burdens of the homeless refugees, the wish of grate- 
ful hearts must ever be, God grant you like succor 
in time of need. Surely such scenes as these bring- 
all together in ties of universal brotherhood. 

* -* MJ * * * 

The winter is fast approaching. Happily the 
pure, white snow will soon cover from view much 
of the desolation and ruin the great forest fire has 
wrought. In the coming spring time, the new grass 
will veil to some extent, traces of this great confla- 
grration. 

Sorrowing hearts will sadly cherish the memory 
of those whose lives were offered up a sacrifice. 
Time, the great healer, however, will chasten this 
sorrow, and those who mourn will learn to look be- 
yond the grave and hope for a happy reunion with 
loved ones. The years will soon pass and smiling, 
prosperous farms and towns will stretch themselves 
over the land where ruin once held its brief carnival. 



The Septe7nher Holocaust. 125 

It is hard to quench the spark of hope in the heart 
of man. God kindly wills it so, for while toil re- 
wards the willing hand, 

''There's a good time coming." 

The kind generosity of uncounted numbers have 
made it possible for those who suffered the loss of 
home and property at Hinckle}^, Sandstone, Mission 
Creek, Miller, Pokegama and the adjacent territory, 
to take heart and begin life anew. The noble list 
of contributions has swelled to over one Jiiindrcd 
thousand dollar's. 

To the writer, this record w^ould not be complete 
with simply a passing tribute to the people of Mora, 
whose kindness in great things and in small, cheered 
and helped those who from first to last they treated 
as brothers, sisters and friends. 

Of the kind doctors, ministers, men and women, 
as well as children there, who had a part in this 
noble work, not even the names can appear, but all 
of us who received of their kindness of ^heart and 
hand, will surely unite in commending them to Him 
who said: *<I was an hungered and ye gave me 
meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink; I was a 
stranger and ye took me in; naked and ye clothed 
me; I was sick and ye visited me. * * ^ * 

Verily, I say unto you; inasmuch as ye have 
done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, 
ye have done it unto me." 

THE END. 



